


The Seduction Line

by tygermine



Series: HMS Dramione [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Businessman Draco Malfoy, F/M, Feminist Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Modern Era, Post-Hogwarts, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: Blaise has fallen in love with Bianca, but can't even talk to her because Hermione keeps cockblocking him.Can he convince Draco that dating Hermione would be in everyone's best interests?
Relationships: Blaise Zabini/OC, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: HMS Dramione [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595287
Comments: 51
Kudos: 132
Collections: The Het Big Bang 2019-2020





	1. The Act of a Desperate Man

**Author's Note:**

> My first big bang in over a decade and there are people that need thanks in all the languages I know.
> 
> First off, Jesterlady. Not only a champion banner producer, but also a great beta reader and mod.
> 
> Lalunaunita - The art she created is brilliant and she pulled double duty by also being my other beta reader and had infinite patience when I had plot points and scenes I needed to complain about.
> 
> This fic has been checked by a few people, but the last edit was done by Grammarly with a bottle of wine to help.
> 
> Suspend your disbelief and enjoy.

Blaise Zabini always got what he wanted. 

And what he wanted now, with a burning desire was Bianca Philips.

“Who the fuck is Bianca Philips?” 

Blaise looked up to the man sitting in front of him. He had not realized he spoke her name out loud. Draco Malfoy was sitting across from Blaise, leg thrown over the arm of the leather wingback chair he occupied. He moved a pawn on the board of Wizards Chess between them and sighed. Blaise wasn’t even trying tonight.

“Who the fuck is Bianca Philips you ask? Only the love of my life. My future wife and the mother to my children. My moon. My goddess, for I, will worship at her feet every day we’re together.”

Draco felt a serious case of heartburn developing.

“So she’s fit, is she?”

“Fit? Fit? My dear Draco, this woman puts the very greek goddesses to shame with her curves and long legs. Why, I could kiss every toe and spend a week making my way up to her-”

“Yes. Thank you. I get the idea. Vividly.” He took a sip of Firewhiskey as he didn’t want to ask the next question and dreaded the answer. “So, why haven’t you shagged her six ways from Sunday yet?”

“Fucking Hermione Granger.”

“Yes, I can see how shagging Granger could impede your plans with Bianca.”

“I’m not shagging Granger. I want to kill her.”

“A feeling I’m familiar with.”

“Everytime I get close enough to Bianca to try to talk to her, Granger fucking cockblocks me. It’s ridiculous. It’s like she knows when I’m within three feet of Bianca and then she swoops in like a fucking buzzkill and redirects Bianca away from me.”

“Just so I understand, you haven’t grown balls big enough to tell Granger to sod off, leaving you pining for some ridiculous crush and I have to sit and listen to this sob story instead of playing a game of chess? Come now, Blaise, you’re smarter than this.”

“Don’t belittle my love by calling it a crush.”

“Your first mistake was falling in love. It’s making a mockery of you.”

“You’ve never been in love!”

“And here I am, not cuckolded or heartbroken. See? My plan is foolproof. What’s so great about Bianca anyway?”

As Blaise went off about her various shining qualities, Draco began to regret asking in the first place.

* * *

Draco’s blatant disinterest in Blaise’s burning love for Bianca did not dissuade him from his goal of spending the rest of his life with her, or at least having a date with her.

The Ministry was hosting the Eros Ball in a month and Blaise had decided that Bianca would be his date.

Now, if only he could speak to her long enough to ask her.

Blaise was hanging around the Foreign Trade office of the Ministry, ostensibly to discuss import permits for his proposed potion ingredient distribution business, but really, it was to catch a few moments alone with his beloved Bianca.

He heard her laugh before he saw her, and his jaw hit the floor as his love turned the corner to walk the long passage toward the office. She wore an emerald green skirt suit, with matching jacket, and a bright yellow blouse. Her yellow high heels showcased her long, smooth legs, and her blonde hair of spun gold was held up in a tasteful french twist. 

Bianca was laughing at a joke her companion had made. Blaise’s heart sank when he saw she was accompanied by that shrew of a woman.

“Granger,” he called as the pair approached the desk where he was loitering. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“The only surprise is that you’re here at all, Zabini. Who have you come to bother today?”

Blaise would describe Granger’s tone as disgruntled at best and downright snotty at worst. Not that he was going to be shut down today. By Merlin and Morgana, he was leaving with a fucking date.

“Miss Philips,” Blaise turned towards the blonde and put on his most dazzling smile. “How are you today?”

“We’re both very busy, Blaise. Now run along and go bother the goons at your members’ club.” Granger cut him off and practically herded Bianca into the safety of their office before Blaise could respond.

He stood there in stunned silence, doing a rather good impersonation of a fish.

* * *

“I need to get Granger laid,” Blaise announced a few minutes later as he stormed into Draco’s office.

“Why yes, Blaise, I have all the time in the world to listen to you bitch about Granger,” deadpanned Draco as he read a parchment at his desk.

“This is serious, Draco. How the hell am I supposed to woo Bianca if Granger is always around?” He slumped into a chair facing the desk. “Now, I posit that if Granger had her own person to date and distract her, she wouldn’t be around to thwart my carefully laid plans to achieving marital bliss.”

Draco ignored him which was not how Blaise expected this conversation to go. He leaned forward.

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

There was a marked lack of response from Draco.

“Oh good. That means you can date Granger and curb her cuckolding habits. Excellent. I’ll send her an owl and set up a dinner reservation at The Savoy.”

“The Savoy hired a new head chef who doesn’t know how to properly treat a salmon - wait, what?”

Ah, so Draco was finally paying attention to him. Excellent.

“You and Granger. Dinner date. The Savoy. 8 o’clock tonight.” Blaise leaned back and crossed his arms, very happy with himself.

“Hold on while I call for a healer from St Mungos to check your head, I think you may be concussed.”

Blaise huffed. “Oh come on Draco, help out your oldest and dearest friend.”

“Blaise, there’s a very good reason I have made it to my thirties in good health. I have a strong self-preservation instinct and it tells me that dating Granger will be bad for my continued happy existence. So no, I will not date that harpy just to help you get laid.”

He had to admit that Draco made a very good point, but surely Granger wouldn’t actually kill Draco if he did ask her out, would she? He expressed this to Draco who shook his head.

“Zabini, I wouldn’t put it past Granger to curse me onto Mars if I so much as looked her way. Now, I suggest you give up this fool's errand and focus on someone a little closer to your league. I hear there’s a new Swedish ambassador arriving soon. Ask her out. Possibly the moment she Portkeys in, so that no one has a chance to explain to her how bad of an idea it would be to date you.” Draco had given up on his reading and stood up to pour them both a Firewhiskey from the bottle he kept in his bottom drawer.

Blaise accepted the glass, mind reeling with the information dump Draco had just laid on him. It took a few moments for him to realise he’d been insulted.

“Oi, low blow. I’m a fucking delight to date.”

“Blaise, I’m not sure you even know what a date actually is. Most people stay clothed during its entirety.” Draco took a sip and shrugged. “You tend to have a drink and shag, after which you disappear and guess who gets the owls and floo calls? Me. Because everyone knows we’re friends.”

Again, Draco had a very valid point.

“Maybe I’ve grown as a person, Malfoy. Think of this as the new me. The me that goes on dates and gives flowers and cuddles.”

Draco choked on his drink and Blaise smiled. “Yes, okay, maybe mentioning the cuddles was going too far,” he conceded.

“Indeed,” Draco nodded and leaned back in his seat, his eyes looking at something over Blaise’s shoulder. The silence stretched on for a while as they slowly finished their drinks and Blaise decided it was time to go home.

As he stepped into the Floo, Draco spoke. 

“Tell me, Blaise, how is Granger looking these days?”

Blaise wasn’t too sure how to answer that as he never really paid much attention to Hermione Granger and what she looked like. To him, she was a walking rule book with bushy hair.

“Hot. She’s looking hot,” he replied before vanishing in a puff of green smoke.


	2. Dating is an act of altruism, right?

Malfoy had made his first mistake in asking Blaise about Granger. It meant that he wasn’t as opposed to Blaise’s grand scheme as he made out. However, Blaise knew his old friend and gave him a day or two to ponder on Granger’s looks and how they’d improved over the past fifteen years.

He was planning to surprise Draco at the office with a bribe carefully disguised as lunch, so he was rather surprised when Draco turned up at Blaise’s office at tea time.

“Shall I call The Savoy then?” Blaise couldn’t help but smirk at his friend, who shook his head.

“I did a cost-benefit analysis last night and the cost of dating Granger far outweighs the benefits. To be precise, there are none.”

“You can always write the dates off as a charitable donation?”

“Don’t be daft. Let’s call the matter settled and move onto something more interesting.”

Blaise sat back and narrowed his eyes at Draco. He could see Bianca slipping further out of his reach with every second Draco refused to cooperate and it made him sick to his stomach. In an act of desperation, he decided to sweeten the deal.

“I have a proposition then- don’t roll your eyes at me. I know for a fact that you’ve been trying to secure an introduction with the Namibian herbologists co-op for months.” Blaise laid out the bait. “What if I said, I can secure that introduction for you? And-” he added as Draco huffed in dismissal. “- I will draw up a contract guaranteeing you sole distribution of their products in Europe and England?”

“Let me guess, the only thing I need to do is take Granger on a date?”

“Not just a single date. Multiple dates and get her to attend the Eros Ball with you. I have a feeling Bianca will not go if Granger doesn’t attend. Women are weirdly tribalistic that way. They come in package deals.”

Blaise watched as Draco metaphorically edged closer to the bait and prod at it. He smiled the moment he saw his friend’s expression change into a sort of resignation, knowing that his offer far outweighed the potential damage his friend may incur by trying to date Granger.

“One date guarantees the introduction. I want the contract signed at the Eros Ball. Also, I am developing less than good feelings about this friendship of ours. Maybe I should do a cost-benefit analysis on it as well.”

Blaise pulled a parchment closer and began scribbling on it. “There will be a table waiting for you at The Savoy tonight. 8pm, because early dinners are for parents and senior citizens.” He stood up to attach the booking to his owl and made a shooing motion at Draco. “What are you waiting for? You have-” he checked the clock on the wall. “- less than five hours to convince Granger to meet you there. And don’t think you can lie about it. I’ll know.”

Draco pushed himself out of his seat with a put upon sigh and flipped Blaise the bird as he left.

* * *

An hour later, Blaise found himself skittish with nerves. Had Draco succeeded in getting Granger to agree to his date yet? He had to know.

He cancelled the rest of his afternoon and floo’d to the Ministry after charming himself with a glamour.

His darling Bianca and Granger worked on the seventh floor and their office overlooked the Atrium. He knew for a fact that Granger never took lunch and would be at this moment ensconced in her office doing… well...he wasn’t sure what she did, exactly, but it must be important.

Blaise swiftly made his way upstairs and surreptitiously leaned against a nearby wall with a full view to Granger’s office door. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen and Blaise’s heart sank for a moment thinking that his friend had half-arsed it and sent her an owl.

And then he heard it - Bianca’s tinkling laugh coming down the corridor behind him. He turned and basked in the view of his beloved walking down the corridor towards him.

“Oh Hermione, I haven’t laughed like that in ages, but weren’t you just a little harsh with your rejection?” Bianca said as they passed Blaise.

“Harsh? Bianca, let me clue you in on something. Draco Malfoy is not a good man and if he is sniffing around asking for dates, he obviously has a hidden agenda. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” Hermione paused at a desk and flipped through the stack of files lying on it. 

“He can’t be that bad. He was perfectly polite.”

“Exactly. Malfoy’s aren’t polite. It’s a trademark of theirs.”

“But, Hermione-”

“Bianca, please, we’ve got far more pressing matters than Draco Malfoy to discuss.”

The women entered the office and Blaise couldn’t hear anymore. 

Hermione Granger was proving to be a hard nut to crack. Harder than he’d first anticipated. Blaise made a strategic retreat to amend his plan.

* * *

“So, you think after getting shot down in a spectacular manner, Granger will agree to go to a ball at your house. With me?”

Draco sat across from Blaise at a table in The Savoy. Blaise reasoned that they couldn’t let a good table go to waste so here they are.

Blaise plotting and Draco smarting from his earlier dressing down.

“It won’t be a ball, per se. Just a casual get-together of acquaintances. Through some luck, I have figured out where Bianca is staying and I will send her an owl tomorrow morning. Do ministry workers work on Saturdays?”

Draco snorted. “I doubt they work during the week as it is.”

“Whatever. I’ll owl her an invitation to the get-together and hopefully she’ll come alone and Granger will be a distant problem.”

Draco cut into his steak with a certain caveman-like ferocity. “If you’d just bothered to get her address sooner, I wouldn’t have had to endure further public humiliation than I already have.”

“It was a last resort and I may have sold the soul of my firstborn, but I feel it was worth it.” Blaise was smug as he sipped his wine. Being the sadist that he was, he took a bite of his lobster bisque and around a mouth full of meat motioned to Draco. “So, how badly did you cock it up?”

Malfoy chewed aggressively on his steak for a few moments before swallowing and sipping his wine. “Let’s just say that Granger has grown even more shrewish since we last spoke. I’m lucky I walked away without a broken nose. It’s no wonder she’s still single.”

“You pissed her off.” Blaise pointed a fork loaded with lobster meat dripping garlic butter at him.

“I was a complete gentleman. There she was in the Ministry Atrium, walking with that woman you...like...chattering away about something or other. I fell into step with them, put on a nice smile and simply said ‘good afternoon Granger.’ Before I could ask her about her plans, she growled at me to sod off. Literally growled. It’s like she’s feral.”

Blaise nearly choked on his food. “Just like that?”

“Couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I feel like I should report her to someone, but I’m not sure who. Department of Magical Creatures or the Department of Public Relations?”

The two fell into a pensive silence as they finished their food.

“You know,” Blaise said as the waiter replaced their empty plates with sinful servings of Rum baba, caramelised pineapple, with crème Chantilly. “If my owl works tomorrow, I may not need you to continue making an idiot of yourself.”

“I still want that introduction.”

“Well, we can’t have something for nothing, can we? Shall we call it the backup plan?”

“I’m sending you any medical bills I incur during this madness.”

“One date gets you the introduction. I don’t care how you pull it off. If you want that contract, you’ll get creative.”

It wasn’t about Granger anymore, Blaise realised. It was about that Namibian contract and Draco was going to salt and burn the earth to get it, judging by the look he was giving Blaise across the table. In Blaise’s opinion, Draco could raise another Dark Lord as long as Blaise got Bianca at the end of it. 

She was worth it.

* * *

Sunday evening arrived without much fanfare aside from Blaise’s growing anxiety about the possibility of seeing Bianca.

The only problem was, people started to arrive at his house and they just didn’t stop coming. What was meant to be a casual little dinner party soon turned into a house full of old friends, work colleagues and that group of people one was only tangentially linked to through at least five other people.

His house-elves were scurrying around, keeping drinks topped up and snacks on platters as fast as they were eaten. 

At one stage in the evening, certain guests had taken it upon themselves to start playing boisterous drinking songs on his mother’s grand piano and someone else had set up a bowling alley in the middle of the ballroom using the heirloom Faberge eggs and an iron age fertility sculpture that was round enough to roll.

It was amongst this chaos that he walked into Bianca Philips, looking as lovely as a summer’s day in a beautiful lavender chiffon blouse and a short black skirt. On her arm, however, was Martin Thorpbrush.

Blaise rushed over to welcome her and find out exactly how Thorpbrush ended up in his house with his future wife.

“Bianca! I’m so glad you could make it! I’m glad you got my owl!”

Bianca’s smile turned into a frown. “I’m sorry, what owl?”

“I sent you an owl yesterday. Did you not get it?” He glanced anxiously at Thorpbrush who placed a possessive arm around Bianca’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry Blaise, I didn’t get any owl. Martin here invited me. Oh, Hermione came too. It is such a lovely house you have.” Bianca smiled widely at him. It made his heart flutter and his stomach sink at the same time.

Martin pulled Bianca even closer to him. “Let’s go see who else is here, darling,” he tacked on with a pointed look at Blaise.

“See you later,” called Bianca as Martin swept her away.

Fucking Martin Fucking Thorpbrush. 

He’s mostly the reason Blaise was still single. Every single witch Blaise merely looked at, Martin had the uncanny ability to find, bed and discard, leaving them swearing off men and adopting an obscene amount of cats. How the hell had Martin even known about his interest in Bianca? He’d only told Draco and Draco, for all his faults, only really spoke to Blaise as he had a very low tolerance of other people in general.

Speaking of Draco, the wizard was making his way towards Blaise, narrowly missing being hit in the ankle by an errant iron age fertility figure.

“Blaise, do I need to show you the definition of “small get together” in the dictionary as this,” he gestured to the crowd, “is not it.” 

“Thorpbrush is here. Bianca didn’t get my owl, but she arrived with Thorpbrush.”

“Bloody hell. I must admit, Granger is smarter than we realise.”

“What’s Granger got to do with this?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I have my suspicions.”

Blaise spotted Granger across the ballroom looking horrified at the shenanigans going on around her. “Well, she’s here, so you should go ask her. But Draco, I’m not counting this as a date.”

“Fine,” growled Draco and stalked over to Granger. 

Blaise was torn between finding Bianca and witnessing first hand a showdown between his friend and the witch. He followed Draco across the room.

“What do you have on Martin Thorpbrush?” Draco asked, leaning against the doorframe in front of Granger, who looked as if she was regretting every life decision that had led her to this point.

“Thorpbrush?” She wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t seen him in years. Last I heard, he was chasing down witches in South America.”

“Oh? So you didn’t introduce him to your friend and suggest they come here together?”

Granger looked as if she’d been hit in the face with a wet fish. “Thorpbrush is here? With Bianca?” She tried to step past Malfoy, who moved to block her exit.

“You need to find an acting coach, Granger. It’s obvious you set them up to keep Blaise away from her.”

She stepped back and looked up at him. “Anyone with a lick of sense would keep Blaise from their female friends, but I would never put her on Martin’s radar. I’m not a total idiot.”

“But you are a cuckolding fishwife.”

“If it keeps my friends from having their hearts broken, then so be it.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Look, Blaise isn’t such a bad wizard. I’ll even show you. One dinner, you bring your friend Bianca and I can promise that Blaise will be a paragon of virtue the entire time.”

“Malfoy, I don’t really have the time for dinner. We’re-”

“One dinner Granger. How about it?”

“No.”

She moved to step around him, but he blocked her path. Granger crossed her arms and glared at him.

“You know, a lot of people may find your persistence…”

“Charming?” His smile edged into a smirk. “Flattering?”

“Unwelcome.”

She stepped around him to leave but he caught her elbow and leaned close to her ear. Blaise couldn’t hear what Draco had said, but he definitely noticed the blush that bloomed across Granger’s face before she pulled her elbow from his grip and stormed away.

Blaise followed her, hoping that she had some innate sense of where his love was currently hiding.


	3. A Seduction Plan Based On Drunken Advice

Blaise never did find Bianca at the party and he proceeded to mope around his office and home for the rest of the week. When his office got boring, he would visit Draco and allow his misery to fill his friend’s office.

“I saw you, you know? With Granger.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?”

Blaise nodded. “You seem intent on sabotaging your meeting and I can’t help but wonder why.”

“The meeting will happen Zabini, I just need a little more time with Granger to make it happen.”

“I hope you’re planning on expediting this matter - the Eros ball is getting closer by the day.”

Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’d get a lot more done without you whining in my office about it. So here’s a suggestion; sod off until I owl you.”

“Such poor manners Draco, what would your mother say?”

“She’d just hex you out of the room.”

Arms held up, Blaise removed himself from his seat and floo’d home. He wanted to trust that Draco could get his side of the bargain done, but he was impatient to have his date with Bianca. In a fit of melancholy, Blaise threw himself down on his sofa and began to sulk.

* * *

Draco decided that meeting Granger at her office was not the smartest move to make. She cared about appearances and gossip and he had no business there to warrant his visit.

The problem was, Granger didn’t really go anywhere else. She was either at home or at the Ministry, so finding a way to talk to her where she wouldn’t immediately become defensive was going to be tricky.

What he needed was an inside man. Someone to help him with his mission to get his meeting, which meant getting Blaise laid, which would be the result of getting Granger to go out with him. He was not blind to the fact that his life had suddenly become some teenage school melodrama, but the ends more than justified the means.

It was this thinking that led to him offering to buy Harry Potter a drink at a pub in Sussex with the hopes that neither of them would be recognised. To ensure this, Draco suggested a muggle pub on the high street. 

“I’d like to thank you for meeting me,” said Draco as Harry joined him in the pub later that day.

“Let’s just say that if I was a cat, I’d be dead,” Harry smiled and took a sip of his beer. 

Draco didn’t understand the reference and chalked it up to one of Potter’s more bizarre characteristics that happen when one is raised muggle.

“So, what’s with the secrecy? Are you in need of witness protection?”

“Witness- Potter, the last thing I need is protection from anyone” An image of Granger flitted through his mind. “Mostly. No, what I need is information. Very sensitive information that could be the difference between war and peace.”

“I want to believe that you’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I could say I was, but something is happening and the fallout could have long-reaching effects.”

“Malfoy, I’m an Auror, so unless you know of a new evil wizard uprising, I’m not sure I have the information you need.”

Ah, yes, this is where he needs to mention Granger without getting his balls hexed off by the man across from him.

“See, the thing is, this information is about a specific person who is crucial to the success of this whole operation to save the economy of the wizarding world. It’s someone you know really well and the questions are going to sound rather invasive, but it is vital you answer them honestly and accurately.”

The smile on Harry’s face had slowly shrunk as Draco had spoken until it morphed into a serious, downturned grimace. Harry seemed to waiver on his decision for the amount of time it took him to finish his pint and order another round for their table.

“Okay then,” he replied after what felt like a tectonic age had passed. “What do you need to know?”

Draco took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Right, so, where does Granger spend her free time?”

Harry blinked slowly behind his glasses then frowned. “Malfoy, if you want a date with Hermione, just ask her! There’s no need for stalking, which I need to add, as an officer of the law, is morally questionable at least and illegal at most.”

“Yes, well, I tried that, but it didn’t work, hence our current situation.”

“Also,” Harry continued, ignoring Draco’s comment. “Hermione is my best friend and I think she’s amazing, but not being able to date her can’t possibly have any ramifications on the economy, so really, find your balls and send her some flowers. Not every relationship is a hostile takeover.”

“What do you know about the economy or the business world?”

Harry shrugged and muttered something about suits, which, yes, one should wear suits when one is negotiating deals. Which, when Draco glanced down at his casual trousers and a button-up shirt, shed some light onto why this conversation was not going as planned.

“Look, Potter, we both know Granger will view any attempt at wooing with extreme prejudice, which I’m sure we can thank Weasley for, so I need some insight into how best to go about it whilst keeping my cock from being hexed off.”

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms. “For someone with a crush, you don’t sound very lovestruck.”

“I don’t have a crush! I’m not lovestruck! I just need to ask Granger out on a date, okay?”

Potter’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some sick bet that you made with your friends? You going to ask her out and then stand her up? Make a fool of her? I will not allow it!”

“Merlin, Morgana and sanity Potter, I have no bad intentions. It’s literally dinner. I just need her to go to dinner with me. One date. That’s it.”

“I’m not an idiot Malfoy. You’re not telling me everything and I am not going to serve my friend up like a lamb to the slaughter.” Harry’s stomach rumbled as his mind flashed to a plate of lamb chops he saw advertised at the pub door. Maybe he should order some?

Draco shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose where a stabbing pain had started. Potterache, he called it, as it only happened when he had to speak to the blasted wizard.

“Potter, I need you to trust me on this.”

“Tell me everything and maybe I might decide to help you.”

With the choice taken out of his hands, Malfoy did the only thing he could, he lied through his teeth.

By the time he’d finished speaking, they were both on the wrong side of tipsy. Potter had teared up by the end, his inner romantic coming to the fore.

“Let’s,” Harry burped and patted his chest. “Let’s do this. Everyone deserves happiness.”

“Is not about happiness, Potter,” Draco slurred slightly. “Is about the eno...ecomo...money. It’s about money.”

“No, Maffoy… happiness. Love. You can be happy. She can be happy. I just want everyone to be happy.” He punctuated this with another burp. Obviously IPA was not the beer for him. “So here’s wha I’m gonna do. ‘Mione likes to read.”

Draco snorted. “Obviously.”

“Books,” Harry took another sip of beer. “All the books. I think she has shares in Waterstones with the amount of money she spends there on books.”

“This Waterstones character needs to be eliminated,” Draco growled, not in the mood for another player to enter this game. Thorpbrush was enough of a wildcard.

“No, is a book shop. She goes there every Saturday. To buy books.”


	4. Naked Breasts Are A Vital Component to Any Feminist Gathering

Muggle London wasn’t a complete mystery to Draco, he just preferred not to go there. 

It was noisy and overcrowded, the money didn’t make any sense, and the food tasted odd.

Potter had suggested he go to the Waterstones on Hampstead High Street, which was close to Hermione’s flat in Cannon Lane.

Draco planned it as carefully as one would plan an invasion of a foreign country. He had his tube map, some muggle money, a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt with some bizarre picture on the front declaring to the world that he supported some comic book character called Captain Marvel, loaned to him by Potter who swore up and down that this is what grown muggle men their age wore.

He had sniffed at it and muttered about how this truly was a sign that wizards were superior as they didn’t dress like children after the age of sixteen.

That Saturday morning, he took a few fortifying breaths before tapping the bricks outside the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into Muggle London. He marched towards the Tube, took the stairs down, got on the train, realised he was going the wrong way, got on the other train, realised it was going the right way, but was diverging at Camden Town to head towards High Barnet and not Edgware as he had read on the information sign when he boarded. He was forced to climb off at Camden Town and switch platforms to find the sodding Edgware train and by the time he alighted at Hampstead station, he was seriously reconsidering throwing his whole plan into the river.

Luckily for Draco, Hampstead was a lovely part of North London. All tree-lined lanes, quaint little shops and a ratio of Waitrose outlets that was rather absurd.

He consulted his map and began the three-minute walk down the High Street to Waterstones, although he was nearly waylaid by the amazing smell coming from Paul’s Patisserie across the road.

The Waterstones was behind a bus stop and tucked between a garish red Vodafone shop and someplace called a Flight Centre, but to Draco’s consternation, there were no Broomsticks on display in the window, only pictures of Muggles on beaches.

The book shop wasn’t very big, so Draco peered through the windows to see if Granger was inside. A shop assistant went to adjust a window display of books and startled at the image of a man with white-blonde hair pushing his face against the glass and shot him a dirty look. 

With a sigh, Draco entered the shop and began a careful reconnaissance of the aisles.

He had passed the Biography shelf, followed by the Religion shelf and was about to pass the shelf labelled Post Modern Feminism when he spotted her standing there, nose in a book. Her hair wasn’t in its usual tight bun, but was loose and hung past her shoulders in soft caramel coloured ringlets. She also wore jeans similar to the ones Draco had on and a bulky, thick knit jersey that hung almost to her knees.

Right, with the enemy combatant spotted, he had to plan the engagement. Should he approach her directly? He had a few choice things to say about her clothes, but on second thought, that could be counterproductive to his end goal. Maybe a surprise encounter over the bookshelf? But then she could run away. He had to look like he was actually there to buy a book, not just  stalk run into her. 

He grabbed a book off the shelf closest to him and opened it in a random spot and slowly walked towards her, lightly brushing against her back as he walked past.

“Oh, excuse me,” he said as she turned towards him. “Didn’t see you there.”

Granger turned. “Oh it’s no- you? You! What...I…” She narrowed her eyes and pulled the book she held against her chest. 

“Granger! Well, what a surprise. How are you this delightful Saturday morning?”

“What are you doing here?” She squeaked.

“Updating my library, of course. Muggle literature goes under comedies if I’m not mistaken.” 

Granger snorted. “Yes, Anna Karenina is a real hoot.” She motioned towards the book he held. “Seriously Malfoy, what are you doing here, in Muggle London?”

“Expanding my cultural learnings, something I’m sure you can’t sniff at.”

“I really want to believe, but it’s just out of the realm of possibility.”

“Oh please,” he snorted. “We’re wizards, nothing is out of the realm of possibility for us. In fact, let’s test how far we can push reality and go have a drink at the pub down the road.” He gestured to the book in her hands. “We can start a Muggle book club. What are we reading this week, Granger?”

She looked down at the book in her hands before pushing it into his. 

“The Feminine Mystique?” He laughed and handed the book back to her. “Trust me Granger, there is nothing mysterious about women to me.”

“Read it and then maybe I’ll agree to that drink.”

Now, in Draco’s experience, dates did not need homework or research. However, he did need that date rather urgently and if this was the only way to get Granger to agree, he’d have to do the reading.

He smiled in a way that he hoped was charming and took the book back from her. “Deal. Shall I owl you when I’ve read it?”

She nodded as if surprised at his positive answer.

“Excellent. Expect an owl shortly.” With that, he went to the counter and ended up buying both books.

* * *

“I haven’t sent you an owl yet, so why are you here?” Draco sat behind his desk, feet resting on the glass, nose deep in a book.

“I just wanted to see if you were up for lunch?”

Draco sighed. “I can’t. Have research to do.”

“Since when - what are you reading?” Blaise leaned across the table and squinted at the book cover. “Reading erotica is not research, Malfoy. Unless it’s been so long, you’ve forgotten how to do it?”

“Firstly, Zabini, what my cock and I get up to has nothing to do with you and secondly, fuck off. I’m busy.”

Blaise shrugged. “Fine, if you insist. If this has anything to do with Bianca, though, I feel I should know so I can help in some way.”

This gave Draco pause and he lowered the book slightly. “Take a seat, Blaise.”

Turned about by Draco’s odd behaviour, Blaise first helped himself to a glass of Firewhiskey before taking a seat across from his friend.

“What are your intentions towards Miss Philips?”

Blaise spluttered into his drink. “Excuse me?” he wheezed. 

“It’s not a trick question, Blaise. Where do you see this relationship going, once it gets...going?”

“Well, where all relationships go, Malfoy. Marriage, children, Hogwarts and quidditch matches. At least, that’s where I hope it will lead. Bianca would make an excellent wife and mother.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “So you expect her to quit her job once you’re married?”

“Isn’t that what most witches do anyway? Their ministry work is always just a temporary arrangement. It worked for our mothers. After the first marriage, they just use the ministry balls to husband hunt.”

“Maybe it was, but I have a feeling Bianca is not like other witches.”

“Well, if you could hurry up and get this date off the ground, then maybe I’ll be able to actually ask her, in person.”

“Yes, patience, Zabini. You’ll get your date. But I’m curious, what would you say if she didn't want to quit her job?”

Blaise blinked owlishly for a few moments, pondering Draco’s question. “I guess we all need a hobby, don’t we?”

* * *

Hermione arrived at the pub the next night, spotting Malfoy almost immediately. He stood out amongst the muggles in the pub. Not just because of his hair, but he, himself, seemed to be cut out of a different time and dropped into modern-day Hampstead. He may have been wearing muggle jeans, but his oxford shirt was crisp and spotless, his hair neatly combed and his cheeks clean-shaven.

Not that Hermione ever paid much attention to what Malfoy had looked like before. She just saw a red flag with blonde hair on it when it came to him.

And yet here she was, meeting him for a drink as if it was a perfectly normal thing that they did.

She reached the booth where he sat and took a deep breath. She was an adult. She could totally handle a drink with Malfoy.

“Ah, here you go,” Malfoy said, pushing a glass of white wine towards her as she slid into the booth.

“Thank you,” she grimaced. White wine gave her a headache, but she took a tiny polite sip.

“And here’s your book,” he slid it towards her as well. “I must say, it explains a lot about you.”

“That I’m a human being with feelings and ambitions?” Hermione felt her hackles rise.

“That you have a massive chip on your shoulder and have this innate drive to prove to everyone that you don’t need anyone. Quite fascinating.”

“Insulting me is not going to help your cause Malfoy.”

“I didn’t mean it to be insulting. I just wanted you to know that I understand you now, and with this new enlightenment I’ve achieved thanks to you, I’d like to invite you to a show.”

Hermione’s mind felt like a squirrel trying to cross the road. She should go home right now. She should tell Malfoy to stuff the tickets to the show. She wanted to know what show he got tickets for. She hoped it wasn’t something presumptuous like the opera.

“Show?” She finally stuttered out.

“Yes. Tonight actually.” He looked at his watch. “We should get going if we’re to be on time.” Malfoy rose from the table and held out his hand to her. Hermione slid out of the booth, ignoring his hand pointedly and led him out of the pub.

“Right, so, where are we going?”

“Islington,” he replied, taking her hand and side-along apparating them to the alley behind the Union Chapel.

Hermione wanted to give him a lecture about consent when side-along apparating, but then she caught sight of the billboard at the Union Chapel entrance.

“We’re going to watch Amanda Palmer?”

Malfoy nodded.

“How the hell do you even know who Amanda Palmer is?”

“She’s no Regina Spektor, but I saw she was in town. Shall we?”

Hermione couldn’t find the right words so settled for simply nodding her head and allowing herself to be led into the venue.

* * *

Blaise burst into Draco’s office the next day after receiving his owl.

“So, it’s happening? I’m getting my date with Bianca?” 

Draco leaned back in his chair and smiled in a very smug way. “I’ll be available the rest of the week for that introduction Zabini.”

“How? I mean, there’s no way you got Granger to go out with you.”

“We’re not in school, Blaise. We’re adults and as such, we’re allowed to be seen in public together. Now, that introduction and then I’ll owl you with the arrangements to see Bianca.”

Blaise smiled so widely, Draco was sure he spotted a manic edge to it. “Done. I’ll send the details to you before the end of the day.” He raced through the Floo back to his office.

“Not even a thank you,” Draco muttered to himself.

The thing was, it hadn’t been as painful a night as he’d expected. Sure, the show had been a very awkward experience, but it was afterwards that really caught him. Granger had bought them both a post-show kebab and they’d walked all the way from Islington through Camden back up to Hampstead. 

_ “Muggles think this is a treat?” Draco had eyed the kebab suspiciously when Granger handed it to him.  _

_ “What, Malfoy, eating street food is beneath you?” Granger had smiled and taken a bite of her kebab. _

_ “It’s not that, Granger, I just think it’s stupid to walk and eat at the same time. This meat looks like it could be a choking hazard.” _

_ “Only if you don’t chew it first.” _

_ Draco stopped on the pavement and hesitantly took his first bite. The pita wrap was soft, the cucumber crunchy, the meat tender and salty while the hummus and yoghurt dressing mellowed the bite of the spice. It was… delicious. He’d barely swallowed his first bite when he went in for a second. _

_ Granger had stood a step away from him, watching him devour his kebab with a smirk. “Not bad, is it?” She picked pieces of meat out of the wrap and popped them in her mouth. _

_ “It’s no steak at the Savoy,” Draco began but saw how her shoulders stiffened slightly. “But yes, it’s very good.” _

_ _

_ With a nod, Granger began walking down the pavement. Draco took a few big strides to catch up with her. _

_ “Can I ask you something?” Draco asked a few minutes later, throwing his empty wrapper into a bin and fighting down the heartburn from the kebab. _

_ “I don’t know, Malfoy. You seem to have me all figured out, so what could you possibly want to ask me?” _

_ “Was Miss Palmer’s tits a necessary part of the show?” _

_ “Did her breasts leave you clutching your pearls like a scandalised victorian chaperone?” _

_ “No, I just - I’m no prude, Granger, but I was just wondering why the need to stand nude on a stage when her kimono was actually rather nice.” _

_ “I’m surprised you didn’t enjoy the opportunity to ogle her.” _

_ “I don’t ogle, Granger. Also, I may have felt that every woman in the audience was waiting for me to do just that so they could sacrifice me on the altar of her keyboard.” _

_ Granger’s laugh was infectious and Draco felt himself laughing with her. _

_ “I can just see it now,” she gasped. “You dare to ogle the bosom of our goddess! We shall execute you on a G chord!” _

_ “While we chant the chorus ‘Not The Killing Type’ over and over.” _

_ “You really liked that song, didn’t you?” _

_ Draco shrugged. “It’s a rather catchy tune. And to be honest, I just couldn’t relate to her songs about abortion.” _

_ Granger looked over at him. “Good point. What are the wizarding views on that?” _

_ “I don’t think there are any laws about it.” _

_ “But how do you feel about it?” _

_ Draco chewed on this for a while. “Pure blood families are not known for being fertile,” he started carefully. “So to abort an heir is frowned upon. But- hang on Granger, I’m not done. I think that I’d prefer my wife to keep it.” _

_ “And if she can’t?” _

_ “Then she can’t and we can try again.” _

_ Granger was quiet for a while. Draco was certain he’d just killed the good mood they’d had earlier and looked around for something to buoy the conversation back to laughs and jokes. Being London, it wasn’t hard to find a pub. _

_ “Let me buy you a drink and we can further discuss the fact that naked breasts are a vital part of any feminist gathering.” _


	5. Dating and Other Patriarchal Activities That Need To Stop

In a coordinated effort that would put the SAS to shame, Draco and Blaise descended on the Ministry just before lunch the next day.

Blaise hid himself in a nearby stationery cupboard, sniffing occasionally at the dust collected on the quills and parchments stacked on improbably high shelves around him while Draco headed towards Granger’s office.

Draco knocked on the office door, waited for a muffled answer and then opened the door. He leaned against the doorframe, not bothering to cross the threshold. 

Granger and Bianca sat at their desks that had been pushed together to face each other. Bianca looked like she was painting her nails while Granger was writing on parchment while referencing at least three books suspended in the air around her head. Bianca looked up as the door opened and smiled.

“Hiya,” she waved at Draco. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to borrow Granger. We have some contracts to revise,” he said, hoping this was how Granger wanted him to play it. They weren’t dating, so he couldn’t exactly announce to the office that he was taking her for lunch. She’d hex him where he stood.

“Granger? Oh! Hermione!” Bianca threw a quill at Granger’s head to get her attention. 

Granger sat up so quickly, she bumped her head against one of the books. “What?” Her eyes were wide in alarm as she quickly scanned the room for anything out of place.

Bianca giggled and motioned towards the door. “This gent is here to ask about some contracts?”

Draco watched as Granger turned her head to look at him, her eyes going from alert to suspicious. He tilted his chin up slightly in acknowledgement.

“Malfoy, what are-”

“Those contracts I owled you about yesterday, Granger. You told me you’d be available today to review them? If they’re not ready, I can wait.” He gestured towards a chair shoved into the corner of the office, partially hidden under a stack of files.

Granger sprung from her chair and waved the floating books out of the way. “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” She grabbed a random file off the corner of her desk and headed towards the door. Draco stepped aside to let her out and with a wink to Bianca, closed the door behind him.

Granger led him to the boardroom down the passage and laid a silencing charm on the room before she rounded on him.

“Why are you bothering me at work, Malfoy?”

“We had a pretty good time last night, I thought we could follow it up with a long lunch. Besides, you looked pretty eager to get out of there,” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder to gesture towards the door.

“Do you have any idea how it looks if you come to my office and I leave with you?”

“It would look like we were dating.”

“Exactly.”

Draco drew his eyebrows into a frown. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Granger tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Yes, Malfoy. It would be a very bad thing.”

Why did Granger have to make things so difficult?

“Granger, I’d like to point out that last night’s test date proved to be quite the success.”

“Test date? It was a drink.”

“And a show and dinner, which, last time I checked, equated to a date.”

“So, based on your evidence and findings, we can then infer that I have been dating all the men in my life including my father.”

“So how do you muggle-borns know if it’s a date?”

“Why are you so hell-bent on it being a date?”

“Maybe it’s because I want it to be? Maybe I think you’re rather smart and you’ve grown up rather nicely.” He made vague hand movements that could be construed as outlining her figure. “And last night was the first time I had fun in a very long time. So come on, Granger, give it a go.”

He scratched at his nose to subtly check if it had grown longer during his speech.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Her arms were akimbo on her waist and her feet were shoulder-width apart. Prime arguing stance if Draco ever saw one. “Dating is like a really long audition for marriage and should have a basis of mutual attraction. The flaw in your logic is twofold, Malfoy. One, I don’t want to get married and two, I don’t find you attractive.”

“But I bet you’ve thought of me naked,” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow.

A faint blush rose in Granger’s cheeks and Draco was about to crow internally at his outwitting her when he almost missed her eyes narrow dangerously. 

“Oh yes Malfoy, you’ve caught me. I want you, I burn for you. Oh darling, oh darling.”

Draco would have loved to hear those words come from Granger, if only she didn’t ruin it by deadpanning her delivery and rolling her eyes so hard, he was sure she’d seen the back of her head.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Granger.”

“It’s certainly the knife in a gunfight of drollery,” she replied, crossing her arms as if relishing her defeat of Draco.

This whole conversation and plan had taken a very sharp turn into the badlands and possibly off the map of how Draco had wanted it to go. This was becoming a regular occurrence and he was seriously reconsidering ever communicating with Griffyndors again. 

“It’s just lunch, Granger.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, you said it’s a date, and a date implies-”

“Yes, yes, marriage, children, attraction, etcetera. If it makes you feel any better, I have no plans to marry you.”

“No, you just want to shag me and then discard me.”

“I never said anything about shagging-”

“It was implied under the umbrella of dating. Attraction breeds lust and that leads to sex. I don’t want to-”

“Merlin’s fucking beard, Granger, fine. I take back every time I even thought the word date.”

“So are we done? I have actual work to get back to.”

“No, we’re not done. I’m still hungry and would like to take you out for lunch.”

“I’m sorry, were you not here for the first part of this conversation? I’m not going on a date with you, Malfoy.”

“Not a date, Granger. A meal shared between two people who happen to be hungry at the same time.”

“But you just said all that stuff about wanting to date me. Malfoy, you’re not making much sense.”

“That’s because you take everything I say and twist it into some version that will offend you and then you feel justified in arguing with me.”

“I’m just looking at the facts. You said not even a minute ago that you wanted to date me and now you’re backpedalling to just a shared meal? What is it that you want, Malfoy because I’m getting dizzy here.”

Draco clenched his fists and a muscle twitched in his cheek. He could just tell her to go to hell, right now. Blaise should have seen his signal and swooped into Granger’s office by now to take Bianca out. That was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? But now Granger had gone and turned him inside out and upside down. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, gathering the remains of his wits.

“Let’s try this one more time, shall we? And don’t say anything until I’m done, okay?”

Granger nodded, a small smirk on her face.

“Right, so, I was wondering if we can discuss that book of yours a little more in-depth over a shared meal.”

Draco hand shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and lowered his chin so that he was looking at her through his eyelashes. Pansy had taught him this stance back in school and he was surprised at how quickly it made women agreeable.

“No.”

Well, most women.

“Fine,” he shrugged.

“Good.”

“Brilliant.”

“Can you please leave now?”

Draco had never wanted to slam a door harder in his life.

* * *

Blaise basically waltzed into Draco’s office later that day.

“You sir, are a genius and should be handsomely rewarded,” he bowed low in front of Draco’s desk and with a flourish, placed a sealed envelope on Draco’s desk.

“What’s that?”

“As promised, the details for the introduction you so brilliantly earned. Now, shall we do dinner tomorrow night?”

Draco heaved a sigh. “I doubt it will work.”

“It’s worked so far,” Blaise smiled widely. “See you tomorrow morning for the introduction. Details in the letter.”

With that, Blaise picked up the waltz from earlier and danced out of Draco’s office Floo.

* * *

Judging by the scowl on Granger’s face when she and Bianca entered the restaurant, Draco was sure Bianca had failed to tell her that Draco would be there.

Granger had put on a fake smile and grabbed Bianca by the elbow to pull her away from the table where Blaise and Draco were sitting.

Draco couldn’t wait for the waiter and went to the bar to order the strongest drink he could. Unfortunately for him, it was close enough to the two women to overhear their conversation.

“You lied to me,” Granger hissed at Bianca.

“No, Hermione, I said that we’ve been invited to dinner by a friend of mine. Blaise is my friend.”

“Since when?”

“Since we had lunch yesterday. He’s not as big an arsehole as you make him out to be.” Bianca’s accusation seemed to sting Granger as she flinched slightly at the tone.

“You didn’t tell me Malfoy would be here.”

“I didn’t know he’d be here.” Bianca audibly huffed in annoyance. “Look, Hermione, I don’t know what your problem is with him but just try to be nice for the duration of dinner, okay? Pretend he’s some politician you need to keep happy. I really like Blaise and I want to have a pleasant evening out and you need a night off. Have a drink, relax and maybe you’ll end up having fun.”

“Are you saying I’m boring?”

“No, Hermione, you’re far from boring. Uptight, definitely, but never boring.”

“Just don’t turn into a simpering idiot just to feed his ego,” Granger warned.

“If I simper, it’s because I want a third date without intimidating him.”

“You’re too good for Blaise Zabini.”

“I’d like to discover that for myself, now, have a shot of tequila at the bar with me and let’s get back to the table, okay?”

Draco beat a swift exit from the bar and settled into his seat beside Blaise who raised an eyebrow at him. “Get lost?”

“There was a line,” he muttered and chose to examine his menu with intense concentration.

Granger and Bianca appeared a few moments later, a slight blush across their cheeks- probably from the tequila. Bianca took a seat opposite Blaise which forced Granger to sit across from Draco.

“Ah, excellent,” exclaimed Blaise. “Shall we get a bottle of wine for the table?”

“See if they have an Australian Chardonnay,” answered Bianca.

“Keen to show off your country’s assets?” Blaise blatantly cast his eyes towards her cleavage.

“If you can order a bottle of British wine that will beat it, then be my guest.”

“Ouch, you wound me, Bianca. Would you settle for a french wine as competition?”

“French wine doesn’t technically exist anymore,” Granger couldn’t help but speak up.

Everyone at the table looked at her in surprise, so she felt the need to explain her fact.

“At the end of the second muggle world war, all the vines in France had been destroyed by the fighting, so vineyards in America, mostly the Napa Valley, sent over cuttings to help the french vineyards regrow their vines. Thus, there are no longer pure french vines and no more french wine.”

A sombre silence settled over the table as the rest of the party took in the information. A moment later, their waiter appeared and Blaise ordered the Australian Chardonnay, earning a smile from Bianca. Granger busied herself with the menu and avoided Draco’s eye.

Draco felt himself pulling at time itself, hoping it would move faster if he concentrated hard enough. He found himself questioning the worth of the contract that Blaise was holding over him for the thousandth time since this caper had started. Granger made a sorry sight across from him. Her shoulders were hunched and her knuckles were white where she held the menu. It was obvious from a mile away that she wanted to be as far as that from this situation.

There was obviously only one solution for this. Draco called the waiter over and quietly ordered four shots of tequila. When they arrived at the table, he placed two shots in front of Granger and two in front of himself. Blaise and Bianca were oblivious to everything around them like a couple already deeply in love, quietly bantering with each other. Draco wasn’t sure why Blaise had insisted he come along in the first place.

He held up the first shot in a salute to Granger before knocking it back. He was pleased to see her follow his lead and barely waited for him to knock back the second shot. He could see her shoulders relax a little and he felt the tingle of the booze work its way down his spine. 

That should do it.

“So, Granger,” he caught her attention with a smile. “Read any good books lately?”

“Unless they’re tomes of legal precedents, Hermione hasn’t had time to read it,” Bianca answered. “She’s been working her arse off on this-ouch!”

“Oh, sorry, my foot slipped,” Granger glared at Bianca. “She’s right. A lot of work reading, no fun reading lately.”

“I used to hate reading,” Blaise piped up. “Still not a big fan, to be honest.”

“Oh, I love me a good detective novel,” Bianca nodded her head. “Or something with spies.”

“You like being surprised by a story,” Blaise stated.

“Oh yes! I love reading a part of a story and having to pause to catch my breath because there was a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”

“I bet you prefer to figure out the crime before the fictional detective, right Granger?” Draco tried to pull her into the conversation.

“Most detective novels are so predictable, but there are a few good writers out there. I’m more of a fan of non-fiction,” Granger replied.

“Ah, yes, your homework reading of feminist rights.” Draco nodded.

“It’s a serious topic that more people should be aware of,” Granger was getting defensive. “Maybe if we had feminism in the wizarding world, things wouldn’t be so antiquated.” Her pointed look at Blaise did not go unnoticed.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Granger?” Blaise narrowed his eyes.

“Whatever you think it means, Zabini,” she bit back at him. “You pure-blooded lot love your oppression and misogyny and patriarchy.”

“That’s not fair and you know it,” Blaise pointed out. “I’m quite the feminist, I’ll have you know.”

“So you’ll not oppose a woman Minister of Magic?”

“No, not that it’ll ever happen, but in the unlikely event that it does, I’ll be happy to have a witch as the Minister of Magic.”

Granger pushed her chair back and left the table. Draco felt an urgent need to follow her and found her outside on the pavement looking up and down the street as if trying to decide in which direction to go.

“You should come back inside and ignore Blaise. You know he talks through his arse.”

Hermione gave him a disgusted look and began walking down the pavement. Draco hurried to keep up.

“Where are you going?” 

“To get drunk.”

Draco couldn’t argue with that and simply followed her.


	6. A Deceptive Seduction

Granger was not joking when she said she was going to get drunk. Her choice of venue for this left Draco slightly confused.

She had led him out into Muggle London, walked a few blocks until they were in a vaguely familiar area of the city. There was a tiny pub, dimly lit with dark wood making up most of the interior. The sign outside proclaimed it to be The Devonshire Arms and it looked, in a word, dodgy as hell.

Granger went inside, took a seat at the bar and ordered a double gin and tonic as well as two shots of whiskey. Draco joined her and ordered a bottle of beer. He didn’t quite trust the draft pumps.

He waited until Granger had finished her two shots of whiskey and was halfway through her gin and tonic when he spoke to her.

“I’m not belittling your beliefs here, Granger, but I think you overreacted to Blaise, just a little.”

Granger snorted in a very unfeminine way. “You just won’t understand.” She ordered two more shots of whiskey. “You men, you wizards, you have it all. You’ve had it all for hundreds of years and you refuse to share. You’re all like a child who refuses to share his toys with anyone and then if someone tries, you draft laws to make it illegal. It’s not right.” She drank one of the shots whilst Draco helped himself to her second one. “In the muggle world, women have fought for a long time to get any kind of respect and mobility outside of what men allowed. It just-” she took a sip of her gin. “Why hasn’t the wizarding world caught up to this yet?”

“I don’t -”

“I’ll tell you why,” she interrupted him. “It’s because wizards think magic makes up for inequality in the wizarding world. Just because I can transfigure a cup into a shoe doesn’t mean I’ll be happy just being a wife and mother. But that’s all we’re good for, aren’t we? Us witches, we don’t get the promotions in the Ministry, we don’t get the ownership of anything. Wizards see us as less and it’s bollocks.”

“You can always-”

“Two more shots of whiskey,” she spoke over Draco then turned to him. “And don’t tell me I should move into the muggle world if I don’t like it. That’s unacceptable. I have magic. I am magic. I deserve to be in the wizarding world as an equal to you as a witch. But noooo-” she drank the shot of whiskey and began to sway slightly on her seat. “First I have to fight for equality because of being muggle-born - that took a whole fucking war. What kind of revolution do we need for me to just be an equal because of my gender?”

Draco paused for a long time after taking Granger’s second shot of whiskey, but she seemed to have run out of steam.

“This is why you’re so against dating.”

Granger snorted again. “I’m sure we’ve had this discussion.”

“Yes, we have but now I have the full story. You want to be Minister of Magic.”

She rolled her eyes at him in a way that clearly showed ‘obviously’.

“So who said you can’t run for Minister?”

“Everyone. Every single supervisor and manager I’ve had since I started in the Ministry. I’ve been moved laterally around the entire building for the past few years and now...now I’m getting those patronising looks and lectures from these wizards trying to explain to me that they’re not going to promote me in case I meet a nice wizard someday and want to start a family. And what kind of wizard wants to marry a witch who spends all her time at work or away from home travelling for work? Who will watch the children? I understand my grandmother so much more these days.” She drained her gin and tonic and ordered another. “I am more than just my ability to bear children, you know?”

Draco sat there, stunned at her diatribe. “You’re a very angry person, you know?”

“What are you going to say next? That it's a very unattractive quality in a witch?”

“No. On the contrary. I think I understand. Pureblood families have a very strict code about who we can associate with, who we can marry and carry on the legacy.”

“Your parents must love that you’re having drinks with a muggle-born then.”

“What my parents don’t know, can’t hurt my inheritance.”

“You’re such a coward.”

“Says the woman who is allowing the patriarchy to keep her in a job she hates.”

“Touche.”

“Run for Minister.”

“It’ll be easier to catch a unicorn.”

“There’s a virgin joke there I’m not going to touch in case you curse my balls off.”

“Good decision.” She sighed. “I really want to. I’ve tried, but I just keep hitting this wall.”

“Here’s an idea, and don’t kill or maim me for it, just hear me out.” Draco licked his lips and girded his loins, which meant he turned them slightly away from her reach. “Pretend to date me. I can get you into the right meetings with the right people who will be able to help your chances.”

Her eyebrows almost touched her hairline before they fell into a frown. “Good one, pull the other leg, why don’t you?”

“I’m being serious. We can get along - look at the other night. We pretend to be the perfect couple, people back your campaign and before you know it, you’ll be Minister.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“Everyone likes a redeemed Death Eater.”

She seemed to buy his excuse with a nod. “Okay, deal. But no kissing. Minimal public displays of affection.”

“Oh please, the groups we’ll be infiltrating may blush if we hold hands. They’re very conservative.”

This seemed to placate the witch and she held up her refreshed gin and tonic with a flourish. “To taking down the patriarchy!”

Draco clinked his beer bottle against her glass and smiled before taking a sip.  _ Things were finally coming up Draco. _

* * *

Every good scam runs on gossip. Inference, insinuation and assumptions made by outsiders who see only what the scammer wants them to see. 

Misdirection, distraction and a little lying by omission goes a long way.

It started with daily lunches, where Draco would meet Hermione at her office and lead her out of the Ministry with his hand low on her back and she would plaster a soft smile on her face. They make sure to walk past the offices of the men that need to know about their affair.

The dinner invitations start coming in almost immediately and the happy couple attends each one. The first dinner was with Gerald Cruppins, head of the Department of Social Welfare and his wife, Regina, who happened to be a journalist for the Daily Prophet. 

Draco and Hermione had put on a special show, vaguely explaining their new relationship and hinting heavily at how the Malfoys fully supported Hermione’s career aspirations. Things nearly took a turn for the worst when Gerald asked Hermione how she planned to juggle a career and motherhood and Draco had to subtly wrestle the fork out of her clenched fist that he was sure she was going to launch at Gerald’s eye.

Hermione had smiled sweetly and explained that she still had a decade for a fulfilling career before they were even going to consider children. She simpered at the smile Draco gave her and the Cruppins ate it up.

It was only on the way home, as Draco walked Hermione to her flat, taking the long way through Hampstead Heath that she threw a fit.

“The gall. The audacity. The very nerve to ask a couple that had been only dating for a month if there were going to be children. Nay, not even ask, just blatantly assume.” She kicked at the snowdrift along the path.

“Granger, if you let it get you worked up every time, you’re going to have a heart attack by the end of the week. Just keep playing the game.”

“This game has the worst rules.”

“True, but if you win, you get to rewrite them.”

Granger’s silence spoke her agreement and she seemed in a better mood by the time they made it to her flat.

“See you tomorrow, Malfoy.”

“Indeed,” he smiled and watched her unlock her front door. 

* * *

The next morning as Draco was enjoying his egg and soldiers, the Daily Prophet landed on the table with a thud. Looking up, he found his mother standing next to him with an expression that would turn milk sour.

“I have no words,” she said before taking a seat at the table and pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Oh, I’m sure you have a few,” Draco dunked a toast soldier into his soft boiled egg and took a bite of the soggy toast. “Don’t hold back mother, please. I need you to get it all out of your system before she comes for dinner.”

“You’re bringing her here? For dinner?” Narcissa glanced towards the drawing-room behind the dining room wall. “That’s a bit insensitive, don’t you think?”

“We’ll be eating al fresco.”

“It’s January, in Wiltshire. Has she muddled your senses?”

“We’re wizards, there are charms for that kind of thing.”

“I don’t like it,” Narcissa spread some blackcurrant jam on her toast.

“Nobody likes winter, mother.” At her raised eyebrow, Draco changed track. “Look, she’s lovely, smart, ambitious and good looking. Besides the muggle-born aspect, she’d make an ideal wife.”

“Hardly. A good pureblood wife is there to support her husband with his responsibilities and foster his career, not her own ambitions.”

“As it happens, mother, I don’t have any ambitions and my career and business is doing very well without a wife, so why not support her.”

“She’s just using you for your good name and fortune.”

This made Draco smile at the irony of his mother’s statement. “That’s not all she’s using me for,” he grinned around another bite of toast.

Narcissa tutted in disapproval but let the matter drop, for now.

* * *

“Either you’ve fallen in love or you’re taking this bet to a whole other level,” observed Blaise as he sat in Draco’s office, sipping his coffee and making a show of reading the Daily Prophet.

By now, Draco had learned to clear at least two hours in his morning to deal with Blaise and his interruptions and visits.

“Who’s to say I haven’t?”

“Well, whatever it is, I must thank you. Bianca and I have barely left the bed to make it to work on time. It’s just a matter of time before I pop the question, but based on this article, you may beat me to it.”

“How’s that contract coming along? I hope it will be finalised by the Eros ball.”

“You can count on it.”

“Good, now stop loitering and go do some work before I buy controlling shares in your company and fire you.”

* * *

“I’m not going to the Manor.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Come on Granger, please don’t be difficult.”

“Difficult? Malfoy, I was imprisoned and tortured in your house. I refuse to go back there.” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes

“It’s dinner, with my mother.”

“Even more of a reason not to go.”

“Oh for fuck- fine. Meet me at the Royce just off Diagon Alley in fifteen minutes. I have to go fetch my mother.” Draco Disapparated out of Hermione’s flat with a scowl.

He ignored his mother’s expression that seemed to shout ‘I-Told-You-So’ at him and accompanied her to the restaurant. Granger was waiting inside at the bar and with a peck to his mother’s cheek, he went to fetch her.

Nearly all the patrons were rich, old and observant. The silence that settled on the restaurant when they walked in broke into the whispered gossiping din that had a higher pitch than normal dinner conversation but a lower volume.

Draco could feel the looks as he kept his hand on Granger’s lower back. He led her to their table where his mother was waiting.

“Mother, you remember Hermione Granger?”

“I’m not senile, Draco. Hermione, it’s nice to see you again.” She motioned to the nearby waiter and ordered wine for everyone. 

Draco could see this did not sit well with his date and took her clenched fist from her lap, He threaded his fingers between hers before resting their entwined hands on the table for everyone to see. She was squeezing so tightly, he was sure she’d dislocated one of his fingers. He grit his teeth and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Granger, you need to calm down and not take anything she says seriously. And stop breaking my hand.”

“Ah, the sweet nothings phase. How sweet,” Narcissa smiled, showing her dimples and nodded at the waiter as he displayed the bottle of wine she’d ordered. 

“Now, tell me how this happened.” She flapped the linen napkin in her hand at them before smoothing it onto her lap and taking a sip of the wine the waiter had poured. She gave a quick nod and the waiter filled the rest of the glasses.

“Your son, in a fit of boredom, decided to bribe me into dating him,” Granger deadpanned as she reached for her wine glass.

Narcissa froze, her eyes flitting to Draco to study his reaction, which consisted of him choking on his sip of wine before smiling widely. 

“Granger has such a great sense of humour, doesn’t she, mother?” He raised their entwined fingers and kissed her knuckles. “Just one of the many qualities I love about her.”

“Indeed,” mused Narcissa, taking a sip of her wine. “Tell me Ms. Granger, what qualities of my son do you find just as endearing?”

“None that can be repeated in public.”

Draco choked on air this time and blushed in a way his mother hadn't seen him do in a very long time. “Let’s not discuss that with my mother, shall we?” 

Granger nodded and sipped her wine with a smugness that Draco almost envied. 

“And this run for Minister. Surely that’s just an exercise in futility. No one will support a witch. You’re wasting everyone’s time with this little endeavour and it will lead to nothing but public humiliation. My family has had enough to last us a few generations at least.” Narcissa’s speech was delivered in a low, calm voice that left little room for argument, yet Granger was not one for turning down a good debate.

“I understand what you’re trying to imply Mrs Malfoy, but that kind of thinking belongs in the Dark Ages. We need to enter into an age of enlightenment in the Wizarding world.”

Narcissa let out a hollow laugh. “And having a witch Minister of Magic is the first step?” “What next? You’ll be advocating for us to break the statute of secrecy and move into the muggle world? Give up our way of life to embrace all the wonders of being a muggle? I’ve been into the muggle world and I didn’t see a thing worth wanting. I’m proud to be a witch and this enlightenment that you’re trying to push upon everyone will only lead to further conflict.” 

She leaned back against the high back chair and smirked. “Don’t you muggles have that famous saying about if something isn’t broken then don’t fix it? Maybe you should heed your people’s advice?”

“I wonder if you’d feel the same if you had had a daughter instead of a son,” Granger replied smoothly.

“If I had birthed a daughter, we would not be having this conversation.” Narcissa snapped.

“Not with me, I think. Maybe with her in my position?”

“A Malfoy witch would never dream of overstepping their boundaries.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow. “That’s the first problem. Why are there even boundaries in the first place?”

“Because without them, society would crumble around us and it would be chaos. We can’t live in anarchy. It’s uncivilised.”

“Yes, and withholding basic rights from a gender is so civilised,” Granger’s tone was thick with sarcasm and Draco could see how the other patrons were practically leaning off their chairs to eavesdrop. What was taking the waiter so long?

“I’m thinking of ordering the Kobe beef. Granger, what has caught your eye?” He gently squeezed her hand, still entwined with his during the debate. He felt as if his bones would never align properly again. “Where is that waiter?” He looked around, trying to catch the waiter’s attention. Pity he only caught the rest of the restaurant's attention.

“I hear the salmon here is delectable,” added Narcissa.

Draco could see the internal war raging through Granger as her face slipped through a multitude of micro-expressions before settling on a soft smile. “I’ll order the salmon then.” 

He knew a proverbial olive branch when he heard one. He felt his chest loosen slightly.

The waiter finally appeared at their table, the faint whiff of cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes. Draco placed their orders quickly, including the lobster bisque for his mother and emphasised that he didn’t want to wait longer than needed for the food.

He kept the conversation for the rest of the evening strictly on light subjects, steering it away from any sore points that his mother or Granger could raise. It was exhausting work and he knew he’d need a few whiskeys when he got home. 

His mother ended the evening with a frosty greeting for Granger and a loaded look in his direction before Disapparating to the manor.

“Well, that will make a funny story for the kids,” he joked.

“Only if you live long enough to have them,” Granger replied before Disapparating home and leaving him standing alone in front of the restaurant to witness the pitying looks from the waiters in the alley having a smoke break.

* * *

January bled into February and the Eros ball was two weeks away, which meant that there was little else discussed within the Ministry.

Draco smirked as he walked down the now familiar passage to Granger’s office, catching wisps of conversation among the gossiping ministry workers.

His favourite rumour at the moment was that he’d been spotted at an exclusive elven jewellery store buying a ring and that he was going to propose to Granger at the Eros ball. Nothing was further from the truth, but the rumours did not hurt the plan. If it kept Granger occupied enough to ignore the goings-on of Blaise and Bianca then his mission was on track and the distribution contract within his grasp.

He refused to think about Granger in the after part of his scheme. 

After the Eros ball. 

After he got his contract. 

After Blaise and Bianca sailed off into the sunset. 

After...everything.

For now, he was working on the here and now and now he was here to take Granger to lunch. Again.

When he stepped through her office door, he immediately noticed something was off. Granger and Bianca were standing across from each other, arms akimbo and cheeks red with anger and frustration.

Bianca noticed him first and dropped her arms. 

“Oh good. Now that you’re here, you can take her out. Maybe shag some compassion into her.” With that, she grabbed her bag and coat and roughly pushed past him.

“Do I want to know?” Draco raised his eyebrows.

Granger shook her head. 

“Just a small disagreement about ethics.” She slipped into her coat and picked up her bag. “Ready to go?”

He stepped out of the doorway and placed his hand on her lower back as they walked towards the Atrium. It was only after they’d passed all the relevant people, Floo’d out to Diagon Alley and took a seat in one of the small cafes that Draco brought up the argument.

“So, Bianca thinks we’re sleeping together,” he ventured after ordering their drinks.

Granger huffed in annoyance. “Everyone thinks we’re shagging, but that’s part of the goal, isn’t it?”

Draco couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually shag the woman at the table with him. Would it be strictly vanilla or would she be open to a little experimentation?

“Shacklebolt called me into his office today.”

Her words pulled him out of his musings and he smiled. “Good news, I hope?”

“In a very roundabout way. He said he’d endorse me as his successor but there were conditions.”

The look on Granger’s face when she said that didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation. 

“What kind of conditions?”

“I have to prove to him that I can appeal to the general public and earn their goodwill.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re a war hero, surely that already wins you the points?”

“He didn’t mean the witch or wizard on the street. He meant the ministry staff and let me tell you, I will not win any popularity contests there.”

“Because you know how to do your job and make them look bad?”

She blinked in surprise at his assessment. “Thank you. But yes, apparently being competent is not popular.”

Their drinks arrived, pausing the conversation for a moment. She wasn’t telling him everything, but he decided to let her keep some of her secrets. He’d speak to Shacklebolt himself to suss out the real conditions. For now, he just needed to get her to the Eros Ball.

Speaking of…

“Granger, have you got a dress?”

She looked down at the pantsuit she was wearing. “The pants are warmer than a dress in this weather, I don’t care what anyone says about dressing more femininely.”

“No, Granger, for the Eros Ball.”

She stared at him, her expression blank. “I’m not going to the Eros Ball.”

No. This was bad. She had to go. That was the whole point.

“Why not?” He sat up, waiting for her answer -- which he could imagine was going to be a lecture.

Hermione waved one hand around as she sipped her drink. “It’s an antiquated mating ritual with no real place in modern society. So some ancient Greeks decided to make a day to celebrate an imaginary figure and then push it upon every one that that was the only day you could use to show your affections.”

The wheels started turning in Draco’s head. “I hear there’s going to be a really good band this year.”

She gave him a dirty look. “I can’t be seen going to the Eros Ball. It will undermine the very foundations of my campaign.”

“Or it could bolster them and make you appear to be an actual human as opposed to this idealistic robot without any feelings. I can see why Bianca was going on about learning compassion.”

“Don’t get pissy with me. I’ve gone to enough balls in my time and nothing good has ever come of attending one. So I’ll be home with a good book, a bottle of wine-”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone was icy.

“You will not be sitting at home on Eros Day like some loser spinster. We’re going to buy you a flamboyant gown and you’re going as my date. We’ll announce your Ministerial run to everyone there.”

Granger crossed her arms and leaned on the table, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “You’re not the boss of me,” she hissed.

“And I don’t ever expect to be, but when it comes to this, you have to trust me.”

Her lips tightened into a sour pinch and her eyes slid down and to the side. Her fingers drummed in annoyance on the tabletop for what felt like an eternity.

She finally looked up and with a clenched jaw muttered something that sounded a lot like -  _ I guess I’ll have to. _

Draco tried really hard not to let his smile slide into a smirk. He was sure he was at least seventy percent successful.

  
  



	7. A Seduction Requires A Soundtrack

They made plans to go dress shopping the following day and Draco decided to throw in a lazy brunch, hoping a sated and slightly tipsy Granger would make the experience less tiresome.

He stepped through the Floo into her living room and was greeted by the sight of Granger on all fours, legs extended straight and her arse in the air.

"Merry Merlin's balls!"

Granger squeaked in surprise and collapsed to the floor.

"What are you doing here?" She glared at him as she got to her feet.

"I was planning to take you for breakfast."

Granger huffed in annoyance and went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Is there some deity that requires adulation by sticking one's arse in the air?" He leaned against the kitchen door frame.

"I was doing some yoga."

"But you're not a Buddhist."

"As far as you know," she teased. 

"A Buddhist witch. You like making my life difficult, don't you?"

"My mother always said take joy in the little things."

"You're not as funny as you think you are."

"I'm hilarious, you just don't inspire me to crack jokes."

He stepped closer to her, straightening his spine to tower over her. "Oh? Then what do I inspire in you? Is it something naughty? Is it to wear really lacy underwear?"

"Don't for a moment think you have any effect on my underwear."

"Then what do I have an effect on?"

"Other than my urge to throttle you, nothing."

There was a blush deepening across her cheeks that made Draco smirk. Suddenly, brunch was a very far-off thought.

"So, if you're not worshipping some deity, what’s the point of this yoga?" Besides making his trousers feel a little tight in the crotch.

"It’s a way to relax and focus one's thoughts whilst aligning one's body."

"By sticking one's arse in the air."

"That’s just one part of the whole set." Granger crossed her arms and gave him an assessing look. "Would you like to try?"

"The yoga?"

"No, being a normal human being." She rolled her eyes at him.

It was an obvious challenge and Draco was not one to back down.

"Fine. Let's try this yoga of yours."

"You'll need to strip down. Shoes, cloak, anything that will restrict your movements."

"If you wanted to see me naked, you could just ask."

"You've seen through my wicked plan," she snarked as Draco shed his cloak, shoes, tie, jacket, shirt and trousers, leaving him in a soft white t-shirt, black boxer briefs and a pair of socks with snitches stitched onto them.

"Nice socks," Granger said, sounding slightly strangled and avoiding eye contact with him. 

He followed her back into the living room and motioned toward the empty space next to the purple mat on the floor. "I don't have an extra mat, so just be careful that you don’t slip on the floor."

Draco eyed the hardwood floor for a moment before turning to Granger. "I hardly think a hardwood floor can cause much damage if all we're doing is rolling around on it."

He didn’t realise it was possible to blush as deeply as Granger was now. Intriguing.

"Just stand here and follow me. Remember to breathe."

"What kind of idiots need to be reminded to breathe? This can't be a proper workout if those doing it need that kind of reminding."

"Malfoy, shut up and stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. Now, lift your arms and take a deep breath in. When you exhale, do it slowly for a count of five then bring your legs together."

Draco gave her a sceptical look but followed her instructions.

"Good. Now, we're going to inhale and clasp our hands above our head, okay?"

He nodded and followed her actions. He bent his knees, inhaled, exhaled, dropped his head to his knees and his hands to the ground. Inhale, exhale, straighten his back so that his hands remained on the ground. Inhale, exhale, stretch out on the floor. Inhale, exhale, push himself up so that his back is curved. Inhale, exhale, lift his arse until he is bent in half.

During this slow, deliberate breathing and stretching, between noticing the little pings all across his body as his joints and muscles lodged their complaints at being stretched in ways they weren't used to, he found himself watching Granger with far more intensity than was needed.

She wasn't wearing her usual business suits, which under the circumstances made sense. Her black sweatpants looked soft and comfortable while still stretching across her legs in a way that made Draco nervous. Her vest was skintight and barely covered the bright pink sports bra she wore beneath it. Granger's hair was gathered to the top of her head, making it look like a bird's nest with its curls haphazardly captured in an elastic band.

She looked… nice. 

Draco almost punched himself for thinking it, but there it was. In the soft sunlight coming through the large living room window, Granger had this ethereal glow around her. All the hard edges she wore like armour began to blur into an image that Draco would label as cute. 

Not that he would ever tell her that she looked like she needed a hug and a cup of tea. That he wanted to hug her and make her that cup of tea and play with the curls that escaped her elastic band.

"..and exhale, push your heels down as you move forward to centre your weight in your hips."

Even her voice didn’t have its usual hard edge. 

"Now bring your left foot forward. Left, Malfoy. Yes. Now lean over it. Keep your right leg extended. Good. Now, twist your body and raise your arm. Like this. Good."

He mirrored her movements until they were facing each other, wobbling slightly. 

"Easy, right?" She smiled and he was taken aback at the punch it delivered to his gut. 

He lost his balance and fell over, landing on his back.

"Malfoy! Are you okay?" She dropped to her knees and leaned over him.

What would she do if he reached up, tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her into a kiss, he wondered, looking up at her. 

"I concede defeat," he groaned. "Your yoga is enough to permanently disable me."

"Don't be such a drama queen." She rose to her feet and held out a hand to help him up. "A lot of people do it every day with great results. Some say it improves their se- nevermind. Water?"

She fled to the kitchen before he could take her hand and so he pushed himself to his feet.

"I think that’s enough cocking about. We have a dress to go buy," Draco felt the need to remind himself.

Yes. A dress for the Eros Ball. That he had to get her to attend so that he could get his contract.  _ Don't get sidetracked _ , he warned himself. 

Dress. Ball. Contract.

Granger returned with two glasses of water and handed one to him. 

"Give me twenty minutes then we can go." She hunched her shoulders and scurried through the door to her bedroom, closing it with a thud that gave no room for argument. 

Draco pulled his own clothes back on and helped himself to a cup of tea while he waited for Granger to get ready. 

With his cup of tea in hand, he wandered around her living room, browsing the titles of the books on her overflowing shelves. There were titles that varied across all the genres. A biography of Rowena Ravenclaw was next to a collection of plays by Oscar Wilde. There were a few detective novels crammed in next to a collection of books by Stephen Hawkings and a book of Victorian jokes and the etymology of Sanskrit. 

He reached the corner of her living room where the shelves no longer held books but a collection of old vinyl records. On a small table stood a box with a round plate and an arm that extended over it. It looked vaguely like the record player they had in the mansion, but a much newer model. He began to randomly pull records from the shelf and read the covers. Again, the mix was eclectic. He couldn’t place them in genres though as there seemed to be more than he’d ever heard of. What, exactly, was acid jazz? Who were John Coltrane and Joni Mitchell? 

“Malfoy, where were you planning - oh!” She paused at the sight of him bent over the records. “What are you doing?”

“I would never have guessed you’d be a music fan,” he replied, carefully returning the records to the shelf.

“Why?” she stepped closer to the sofa and picked up her handbag.

“I just never thought of it, to be honest. You’re such a swot, I didn’t think you would have time for music.”

She gave him an inscrutable look. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

He checked the time on the clock above the kitchen door. “We still have some time. So tell me, which is your favourite?” He gestured to the records.

Granger huffed in amusement. “I really hate that question.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t just have one single favourite album. Each one evokes different emotions and memories. I think I have a top ten that can be sorted by genre or era. Like this one,” she dropped her bag on the sofa and walked over to the shelf, going to her knees in front of Draco.

For a moment, his breath caught. He’d never really thought of her in the position before but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Will she look up at him from beneath her eyelashes and smile coyly while undoing his fly? Would she moan as she took him in her mouth?

“-I mean, Mitchell is a storyteller. She makes you feel those moments she’s singing about. I think my favourite song of hers is Case of You, but then there’s the utter sadness of River. But for something more uplifting, I like Blondie.” Granger was ignoring Draco’s little trip to fantasy land as she leaned forward and pulled another record from the shelf. “Parallel Lines was a groundbreaking album that changed the way artists experimented. But then again, experimentation was the entire point of David Bowie’s career.” She pulled out another album. “His songs also evoke all these images. Like Life on Mars - it’s a tragic masterpiece that calls out the police violence of the time and the hypocrisy. And then there’s Fleetwood Mac. Not so much about society as it is about their own twisted relationships. You can simply hear the drama that was going on in the background.” She examined the record in her hands. “You know, I haven’t listened to this in ages.”

She finally glanced up at Draco and blushed. 

“Sorry,” she said and pushed herself to her feet. “Sometimes I get a bit carried away.”

“I don’t mind. Would you-” he gestured at the record player.

“Oh? I...well...uh…” she looked between the albums and Draco. “Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Which one do you think I should hear first?”

“Urgh, that’s so hard to answer. Are we making this a history of music lesson or just random samples?”

Draco simply shrugged.

“Fine. We’ll start with this one.” She opened the turntable cover and placed an album on the plastic disc. She carefully lowered the needle onto the record and turned up the volume knob.

There was the slight snitch of the needle catching the groove in the record. A strange sound came through the speakers.

“What’s that noise?” Draco asked.

“The dial tone of a telephone. The song is called Hanging on the Telephone.”

Draco nodded and remained silent, not wanting to reveal his full ignorance of the muggle world to Granger. The song lasted a few minutes and quickly changed over to something that got his foot tapping. He glanced at Granger only to catch her looking away.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Granger, do I have something on my face?”

“No, it’s stupid.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Urgh, fine. I like watching people.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” he murmured.

“No, I mean… when someone hears a song that touches them for the first time, there’s this look they get on their faces and sometimes I’m a little jealous of it. Like hearing Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time. You don’t know what to expect and afterwards you feel elated and empty and this whole mess of emotions. You can’t ever hear it again for the first time and even though every time after that it still leaves you amazed, that first time is...magical.”

She stopped the record and replaced it with another.

The opening drum beat with a guitar riff slowly rose from the speakers. Draco felt the hairs on his arm lift.

“What is this?”

“Fleetwood Mac.”

Draco nodded his head along to the tune. “It sounds like two people pulling a rope -- like tug of war.”

“It’s got that feel, doesn’t it? That back and forth.”

“It’s good.”

The smile on Granger’s face at his words was unlike any smile he’d seen her wear. It was luminous and honest and open. It made his chest clench.

“I have something for you,” she jumped to her feet and ran into her room. 

She came back out a few minutes later as the song changed into something a little darker and dramatic. In her hand was a small metal square. “I have had this for ages, it’s a music player. A few years ago I loaded all the albums here onto this. It should be fully charged. Just press this button here and put these in your ears and you can have music wherever you are.”

She handed the little square with the dangly plastic ropes to him, which he placed in his jacket pocket. 

“Thank you, Granger.” He found his throat closing up and swallowed a few times to clear it.

They were so close that everytime he exhaled, the soft tendrils at her temple moved with the breeze. If he leaned slightly down and to the left, he’d be able to kiss her. 

Granger leaned back and blushed. “One more record, then we can go. Okay?”

Draco blinked at the void between them and nodded dumbly.

“This one isn’t as old as the others and so it’s not considered a classic, but it’s still beautiful.” She removed Fleetwood Mac from the turntable and replaced it with a bright red record that looked much newer than the others.

“Okay, this is going to sound stupid, but I suggest you lie back to listen to this.”

Draco frowned at her but slowly lowered himself to the ground. The needle snitched and caught and the first strains of the song began to play. 

The guitar strums sounded lonely and sad, a strange echo added to them as if they were coming from the bottom of a deserted well. The drums sounded like a heartbeat in the background and Draco felt his heart jump and skip to match.

He felt Granger lie down beside him and couldn’t help but steal a glance. Her eyes were closed and she had a small smile on her lips.

He closed his eyes and let the song carry him. 

Draco felt as if he was floating in the ocean, the sun warm on his face and the music creating the waves that made him bob up and down. He reached out and his fingers brushed against something soft and solid. 

Granger’s hand.

He carefully took her hand and felt as her fingers slotted between his. The floating feeling stopped as his attention zeroed in on the feel of her hand in his. He wanted to mock himself for acting like a teenager, as if this was his first time with a girl.

In a way, though, it was. 

He had skipped being a teenager and was flung straight into adulthood and he had a feeling the same had happened to Granger.

They didn’t have time to lie on the floor and listen to records when there was a madman killing off loved ones. There wasn’t time to savour first times in anything. In fact, Draco’s first time was the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. He’d gone home with his parents, locked himself in his room and Floo’d Pansy. She snuck into his room and they’d sat on his bed, arms around each other just enjoying the ability to breathe.

They’d fallen asleep at one point, arms around the other, heads bowed close. It was later, when they’d both slowly woken up and in that muzzy time between asleep and awake, they’d kissed and touched and truly celebrated being alive.

It had been a one time thing, with Pansy being married off a few months later and moving to Madrid with her husband. She bypassed the political hoopla that followed. The trials, the rumours and gossip, the finger pointing and accusations. He’d lived through all of it under a microscope until people’s attention waned and found other news to sate their gossip channels.

Granger let go of his hand and he felt her roll onto her side to look at him. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. 

Still caught up in his memories of first times and last times, he leaned up and caught her in a kiss.

He felt her gasp against his lips so he reluctantly broke the kiss.

“Oh?” she breathed.

“Oh,” he replied with a rasp in his voice.

“Oh,” she leaned down and kissed him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her down until she was stretched against him. Their legs tangled and her hands grasped at his jacket. He ran one hand up her back to tangle in the curls at the nape of her neck while the other stayed wrapped around her waist.

Draco kissed Granger as if nothing else in the world mattered. He loved the feel of her lips against his, the tip of her tongue gently pushing against his then retreating. The noises that escaped her throat when he angled his head slightly to nip at her lower lip. The way her fingers dug into his chest when she took control of the kiss.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay there, snogging like a pair of unsupervised teenagers, as the record had stopped playing and was making an odd buzz as the needle slid along the smooth inner edge of the record by the time they came up for air.

“Well, that was…” Granger sat up and moved to the side.

“Inevitable,” Draco sat up and tried to subtly adjust himself.

“Inevitable? Why?”

“Granger, it was bound to happen. We are pretending to be a couple and sometimes things get blurry and well, here we are.”

“So it’s not real?”

“Oh, it’s very real. At least, for me, it is.” He took her hand and kissed the knuckles.

“Me too. Rather inconvenient, don’t you think?”

“Very inconvenient, but at least we’re not actually lying to anyone.”

“True. There’s no room for lies in politics.”

Draco spent two minutes laughing like a hyena before she could get him to his feet and out the door to go buy the dress for the ball.

* * *

“I’m not wearing red to a bloody ball dedicated to romance.”

Granger had rejected about six dresses by Draco’s count and he was starting to get the feeling that she didn’t actually enjoy shopping. He didn’t understand it, though. His mother could walk into a shop, describe what she wanted and within minutes she was moving onto the next shop.

They had been working their way through every dress in Ourlets and Granger hadn’t even tried on a single one.

“Fine, no red,” Draco conceded. “What about this one?” 

“I’m not a disco ball, Malfoy.”

Draco wasn’t sure what a disco ball was, but if Granger was against a classic silver dress that flowed to the floor, then so be it.

“Is there anything you see that you like?” He wished he’d brought a hip flask with whiskey.

Granger shook her head. “I don’t see anything I would want to be seen dead in. Why did you bring me here?”

“My mother shops here all the time.”

“Do I look like a matron? Don’t answer that.”

“Well, where do you want to go? There aren’t many dress shops in Diagon Alley.”

Granger smirked. “Yes, but there are tons in muggle London.”

Draco felt himself deflate. “Are you sure we can’t just find a dress for you here?”

She gave him an exasperated look and grabbed her handbag to leave. He followed her out into the street.

“Seriously Granger, why must we go to muggle London to find your dress?”

“Because that’s where it is. You don’t have to come, you know. “

“I said I’ll buy your dress, so I have to go.”

“Careful Malfoy, your misogyny is showing.”

“Merlin’s balls, Granger. It's not misogyny. It’s called being a gentleman and wanting to buy a dress for my date is not some act of power. I just want to spoil you.”

Granger was quiet for the two blocks it took for them to get to the Leaky Cauldron. 

“Tell you what,” she said as she tapped the bricks. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Before we go to the shops, and can we eat at a table this time?”

Granger simply smiled at him before stepping into Muggle London. Draco rolled his eyes and followed her.

* * *

Granger treated him to lunch at Sa Wa Dee Ka, a Thai restaurant just off Mornington Crescent before leading Draco to The Stables flea market down the road close to Chalk Farm.

“These are all previously owned dresses, Granger.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said, digging through a rack of vintage dresses.

“But why would you want to own a second hand dress? Surely a new one would be better?”

“I don’t like the new style of dresses. Also, these were made in a time before disposable clothing was a thing. These are handmade and cared for.” She pulled out a black dress and held it against her chest. 

“No black,” Draco said, carefully taking it from her and placing it back on the rack. He picked through the rack until a flash of deep purple caught his eye. He removed the dress from the rack and held it against Granger. “This one.”

She looked down at the dress. “Maybe. I’m not too sure of the fit.”

“You can try it on at home. Excuse me,” he called to the shop assistant. “We’ll take this one.”

“Malfoy, I can’t just buy a dress to try it on.”

“Good thing I’m the one buying it. I have a good feeling about it.”

Draco kept a close eye on the shop assistant as she wrapped up the dress, making sure it wasn’t damaged in the process. He handed over the money and then took Granger by the hand to lead her out of the flea market.

“Enough shopping for today,” he said, kissing her knuckles. “Let’s get out of the cold and go listen to more of your records.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”


	8. Balls, Bollocks and Bad Decisions

Hermione liked to think that she was adaptable to any situation she found herself in.

This situation, however, was leaving her off balance.

Draco Malfoy was stretched out on her sofa, socked feet tapping in time to the music from her stereo while composing her campaign speech. 

That alone was already an odd sight in her mind, but what kept her even further off balance was how much she liked it. 

She actually enjoyed spending time with Draco. Whether it was in her bedroom doing all sorts of salacious things to each other, or simply taking a walk through the park and discussing her plans for the campaign. 

Maybe like was too small a word for what she felt growing between them. Fondness? Respect? Lo- nope. Too early for that one, surely.

Malfoy never spoke of their future beyond her winning the race as Minister of Magic. As if that was the goal and anything beyond that was...murky. So Hermione didn’t talk about it either, nor did she allow herself to think about it.

The ball, the campaign announcement, the election. 

Three milestones she had to overcome before she could allow any distractions to pull her away from her path. 

Hermione stood in front of her bedroom mirror taking in her appearance.

The dark purple of the dress made her skin appear paler than normal. The low back had strips criss crossing over her shoulder blades, leaving her lower back open. The dress fell along her curves and rustled against the floor when she walked. She had tamed her hair into an updo, exposing her neck and the gold earrings she received from her mother a few Yules ago.

“Granger?” Draco called from the living room after he floo’d in.

“Coming,” she called and gave herself one last examination in the mirror before going to meet him.

She entered the living room, coat over her arm and clutch purse in her hand. “So?” She gave a small turn in front of him. “Does this scream future Minister of Magic or what?”

Draco’s jaw worked soundlessly for a few moments until he clenched it and cleared his throat. He pulled her into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

“You look breathtaking.”

Hermione internally preened at the compliment. It had been so long since anyone had complimented her, it felt strange to hear those words directed at her.

“Thank you,” she blushed, taking his hand. “You clean up rather well.”

She could feel Draco puff out his chest just a little. “I know it’s winter, but that scarf?”

“I was told it’s fashionable.”

“You look like you’re about to go star in a Bollywood movie,” she smiled.

“Careful Granger, I have an entire arsenal with regards to your hair.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped.

He leaned down and gave her a light kiss. “Not if you keep your scarf opinions to yourself. Now, shall we go?”

Hermione sighed. “If we must.”

“We must.”

They floo’d to the Ministry.

* * *

The Eros Ball was held in the Ministry’s ballroom. 

Its ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky with sparkling stars and glittering meteorites shooting across the inky backdrop.

There was an elven orchestra on the mezzanine supplying soft romantic arrangements while the guests gathered on the main floor below. Trays of drinks floated amongst the guests and on two sides of the room were buffets set out that made the tables bend under the weight of the selection of food.

After greeting a few familiar faces, Draco led Hermione onto the dancefloor to distance her from the whispers being exchanged by the crowd. 

He felt like a different man when he held her in his arms and knew that he was the reason she was smiling. Everything else didn’t matter in those moments as they swayed along to the music. It was like that scene he had watched in an old movie Granger had shown him the night before. Two people dancing, lost in each other while everyone around them bled into a blur of inconsequential nothingness.

As the music faded, Draco spotted Blaise at the edge of the crowd. Blaise tapped his jacket pointedly and nodded towards a passageway just off the ballroom.

With a kiss to her knuckles and a whisper of getting them a drink, Draco headed to the passage.

Blaise was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and an expression like thunder when Draco reached him.

“I hope you have the contract ready, as my quill is ready to sign,” Draco transfigured his pocket square into a quill.

Blaise pulled it out of his jacket and held the parchment tightly before muttering a charm, causing the contract to burst into flames.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Draco demanded, stepping back from the flames.

“Me? What am I playing at?” Blaise gave a hollow laugh. “You lied to me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We had a deal, Malfoy. You distract Granger so that I can date Bianca and bring her to the ball. If you haven’t noticed, Bianca isn’t on my arm this evening. She’s with Thorpbrush.”

“We did have a deal and I upheld my end. Granger is here as you wanted. It’s not my fault that you can’t get the woman you’re dating to come to a ball with you. Now, I suggest you get a fresh copy of that contract or we’ll be talking through lawyers for the rest of our lives.”

“Does she know? Does Granger know you’re only pretending with her? I should tell her, don’t you think? Warn her off of you before you break her heart.”

“Blaise, stay away from Granger. I will not warn you again.”

“You’re warning me? I’ve nothing left to lose, Malfoy. Do your worst.”

A familiar scent wafted from Blaise.

“Zabini, you’re drunk. Go home, sober up and we’ll discuss this in the morning.”

Blaise pushed off the wall he was leaning against and lurched against Draco. “There’s nothing to discuss. This deal is over.” He looked over Draco’s shoulder and a sadistic smile spread across his lips. 

Draco turned to look over his shoulder and dropped his head in defeat.

Granger stood at the entrance to the passage, her lips tight and her nose in the air.

“You should take Blaise home so he can sober up. I’ll make apologies for you if anyone asks.” Her words were sharp and clipped. 

Draco caught Blaise around the shoulders and Disapparated from the passage, Granger’s last words echoing in his ears.

_ “I never want to speak to you again.” _

  
  


Hermione was furious.

“-and Ms Granger here has a very special announcement to make, don’t you?’ Kingsley was talking to a group of wizards by the buffet. He had caught Hermione trying to leave and curtailed her plan by pulling her into discussions with various guests.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, her eyes looking for a very specific person.

Bianca was standing in a corner, Thorpbrush indecently plastered against her side. 

Hermione excused herself from Kingsley and stalked through the crowds to Bianca.

“Hermione!”

“Don’t you Hermione me,” she grabbed Bianca by the elbow and pulled her away from Thorpbrush. “What the hell is going on? You tell me how much you like Blaise and how you want to get serious with him and now you pull this stunt? Why are you here with Thorpbrush? What happened?”

Bianca sniffed and pulled her arm from Hermione’s grip. “I am a grown witch, Hermione, who can choose whom she will date and not date. I do not have a wedding ring on my finger and I do not intend to have one for a very long time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get back to.”

Thorpbrush pulled Bianca back into his arms and they moved further into the shadows.

“Ms Granger?” 

A scared looking wizard appeared beside her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms Granger, but Minister Shacklebolt says it's time.”

Hermione nodded and followed him to the stage that had been set up at the end of the room.

“Witches and wizards,” Kingsley stood on the stage, his presence demanding attention. “Welcome to this year’s Eros Ball. Before we fall further under his spell of love, I have an announcement. As you know, I have been Minister of Magic for many years now. But a new era is due to begin in the wizarding world and we need young witches and wizards to lead us into this new chapter with their innovative ideas and policies. One of the best minds of this new generation is Ms Hermione Granger and I am hereby giving her my endorsement as my successor.”

He led the crowd in a round of applause as Hermione stepped onto the stage.

“Thank you, Minister Shacklebolt,” Hermione began, feeling her heart start to race as she took centre stage. “I am very honoured to be chosen as your successor and I hope to live up to the expectations that come with the responsibility. The relationship between the ministry and the wizards and witches of Britain should be one of trust. I am aware that the ministry has broken that trust in the past. We need to be held accountable for our actions in the eyes of the wizarding world. The Ministry needs to win back the loyalty and repair its relationship with the beings it is responsible for. Without the trust of the population, what good is a ministry? As Minister of Magic, I will lead with a transparency unheard of until now. I will push policies for the benefit of all and together, we can enter a new age of enlightenment in the wizarding world. Thank you.”

Hermione didn’t remember the rest of the ball. It went by in a blur of handshaking, benign pleasantries and small talk. She didn’t even notice Malfoy standing at the back of the room when she gave her speech.

* * *

It was three days after the ball and Hermione hadn’t left her flat.

She lay on her sofa wallowing to the soundtrack of Joni Mitchell, Cigarettes After Sex and Joy Division. 

Hermione had never been so humiliated before and it stung.

She should have known better. She should have kept her guard up. She had been played for a fool and now everyone knew. Surely they would have noticed that Malfoy had not joined her on the stage. She had been able to sidestep any questions about Malfoy’s involvement in her campaign and the status of their relationship. 

He had sent her countless owls that she’d promptly torn to shreds without reading them. There was no excuse for what he’d done. 

She should have known his motives were suspect. Of course he’d have to be manipulated into dating her. He didn’t really like her. He didn’t really care about her. He’d faked the whole thing, even when he told her it was real - it wasn’t. Not for him. Like an idiot, she’d believed him and now? Now she was a laughing stock.

Hermione rolled onto her side and picked up the bottle of red wine from her coffee table, drinking directly from the bottle. Joni Mitchell crooned from the corner of the room about seeing both sides now and Hermione found herself singing along.

By the end of the album, Hermione was singing at the top of her voice and had missed the knocking on her front door until it invaded the quiet left as the music faded.

“Go away!” 

“‘Mione, open the door.”

“Harry?”

“No, it’s Graham Norton.”

“Just leave me alone Harry!”

“Nope.” There was a soft thud followed by the drag of clothing against the wood of her door. “I’m not going anywhere. Either you talk to me or I die of old age on your doorstep.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and on unsteady feet, she plodded to the door and pulled it open. Harry fell back onto her floor.

“At least you’re alive,” he said, climbing to his feet and pulling her in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

She extracted herself from his grip and shuffled back to the sofa. “What are you sorry for, Harry? You didn’t agree to fake a relationship with Draco Malfoy under the guise of wanting to run for Minister of Magic. You didn’t lose your mind and fall in love with the wanker and you definitely didn’t find out that despite it being fake, it was a whole other level of deceit going on in his camp that left you feeling like an utter fool. No. That was all me.” She picked up the bottle of wine and took another sip. “I was such an idiot.”

Harry settled on the sofa next to her and carefully removed the bottle from her hands. 

“Hermione, you didn’t do anything wrong. You took him at his word-”

“As if I didn’t already know that was a stupid thing to do.” Her voice cracked with the threat of tears.

He sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, ignoring how her hair tangled in his beard. “I didn’t know what his plan was when he asked me about you. He spun some story about how he wanted to do some good and if helping you become Minister of Magic was the good thing, then that’s what he was going to do.”

“You encouraged him?” She pushed away from his embrace and took back the bottle. “You knew what he was up to and you didn't bother to warn me?”

“No, ‘Mione, I swear, he was so sincere when we spoke, I honestly thought he had a crush on you and was too shy to just admit it.”

Hermione glared at him, finishing the last of the wine in the bottle. “So, what, you thought poor little lonely Hermione, let’s get her hitched off to the first person to ask about her? I’m not lonely, Harry. I liked my life before Malfoy came along and wrecked it.”

“Now I know that’s a lie. Would you honestly have even given it a shot if he hadn’t come along?”

“I… was… I would… I would have been fine. There was a plan and I would have done it eventually.”

“Fallen in love or run for Minister?”

“Minister of course. I’ve established beyond a shadow of a doubt that love is not for me.” She gave the empty bottle in her hands a mournful look. “Now my wine is finished.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Harry murmured.

She shuffled into her kitchen, threw the bottle in the recycling bin and opened the fridge to get another bottle. Hermione had stocked up in her rage and ignored the concerned glances from the teller as she rang up the bottles of wine. Armed with a bottle of cheap Californian Sainsbury’s Pinot Noir, Hermione headed back to the living room.

“You know,” Harry began tentatively as he watched Hermione unscrew the lid and take another sip. “You don’t actually need Malfoy anymore. The groundwork for your campaign is laid. Now you just need to win and you do realise you have far more people on your side than him. So beat him at his own game. Win the race, become Minister and that way you show him how little he means to you.”

Hermione tilted her head at his speech, his words filtering through her wine haze. 

“Did becoming a husband make you so wise?”

“No, Ginny and I are binge watching Gossip Girl.”

Hermione huffed a laugh. “And here our parents worried that tv would rot our brains.”

* * *

Draco was going to kill Blaise. Resurrect him and then kill him again ad infinitum.

Unfortunately for him, Blaise had turned sulking into an artform and was showcasing his mastery of the art in Malfoy’s living room. It wasn’t as much fun to kill Blaise when he looked pathetic, moping on the sofa. Draco decided he’d delay his murderous urges until Blaise could at least put up a fight.

“Why Thorpbrush? Of all the wizards in the world, why did she go with him?”

“Maybe because he actually asked her instead of assuming she would go with him, which is exactly what you did, so you deserve your anguish.”

“Oh please, it's not like you actually liked Granger.”

Draco chose not to answer.

“Besides, you got her to the ball. You did your part. I was the one that dropped the ball, didn’t I?” Blaise floated a fresh glass of whiskey to his prostrate form. “You got your contract. Things always go your way, don’t they? What's your secret? Teach me your ways, oh wise wizard.”

“You should have just asked her, you moron.”

“At least you don’t have to see Granger anymore. What a relief to get away from her weird fact sprouting and painfully middle class manners.”

“Blaise, I’m going to say this only once and I suggest you pay careful attention to my words. Don’t ever speak to me of Granger again. Now, get off my sofa and go see if you can salvage your relationship with Bianca. I have work to do.”

“But Draco,” Blaise dragged out the o. “I am a broken man. The love of my life has rejected me in the cruellest fashion and I have nothing left to give. Just leave me here to die in peace as my heart breaks into a million little pieces.”

“Or, and this is an offer I wouldn’t suggest you turn down, go to her. Speak to her. Listen to her. Then take her shopping.”

“You think that will work?”

“Do you see me sitting around with a broken heart?”

Blaise pursed his lips and nodded. “Guess I should shower first?”

“I hear women like men that don’t smell of whiskey, sweat and self pity.”

* * *

Blaise stood in front of Bianca’s flat door and raised his arm to knock. Before his knuckles could touch the wood, he pulled his arm back.

What if Thorpbrush was still there? What if Bianca was out? What if they were out together? What if she was busy? Would now be a good time to confess his love? 

Come on Blaise. This was the future Mrs Zabini just beyond that door. 

He raised his arm again and just as he was about to knock, the door opened.

Bianca stood in the doorway wearing a bathrobe, her hair gathered in a messy bun on the crown of her head.

“You’re home!” Blaise exclaimed.

“And you’ve been haunting my front door for the past hour.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

“Why did you go to the Eros ball with Thorpbrush?”

“Because he asked me?”

“But I thought we were going to go? I thought we were dating, getting serious. I even referred to you as my girlfriend to my friends!”

Bianca laughed at him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Blaise blustered a little, face growing red. “I’m not a side show, Bianca.”

“No, but you are amusing.”

“Can’t we discuss this inside?”

“I haven’t decided if inviting you in is worth the effort yet. Tell me Blaise, have you actually ever had a girlfriend before?”

Blaise shot her a toothy grin. “You have first hand knowledge of how experienced I am with women.”

“Girlfriend, Blaise, not some poor soul you took out for a night and then forgot about the next day.”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Bianca heaved a sigh and pulled Blaise into her flat and directed him to sit on the sofa. She then made a pot of tea and once it brewed, she offered him a cup, sitting in a lazy boy across from him.

“Tell me about your mother,” she said, stirring her tea.

“My mother is a goddess,” Blaise gushed. “A true goddess who is too good for the mere human scum that try to win her hand. Few have come close, but no step father for me as yet.”

Bianca simply nodded and continued to stir her tea. “And your father?”

“A mere mortal who flew too close to the sun and got burned, but he did gift my mother me, so he can’t be that bad.”

“I see.”

“The error of your ways by going to the ball with Thorpbrush?”

“No, he was delightful company. Blaise, you do realise that a relationship is between two people, right? Two people who talk to each other and agree on the path they take together. You assumed that we were dating. You assumed that I would go to the ball with you. You assumed that I was your girlfriend. Now, do me a favour,”

“Anything, my love.”

“Cast your mind back to all the conversations we’ve had. See if you can remember ever asking me about any of your assumptions.”

“Yes, but the… sex…”

“Good sex does not make an engagement, Zabini.”

Blaise sank back in his seat, dumbfounded by Bianca’s words. She sat down beside him and took his hand.

“Do you know what love is? Real, unconditional love. The kind that comes with the right person and lasts a lifetime.”

“I know that I love you,” Blaise kissed her knuckles.

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t feel like love.”

“How can you say that? I love you so much, I can’t imagine a day without you.”

“And what am I doing in these days that you imagined about us? Being an adoring wife? Mother?” Bianca sighed. “Blaise, you don’t actually love me. No, don’t speak right now. I need you to listen. You don’t love me. This idea you have of me and this life you want to share isn’t about me. It’s about you wanting someone to replace your mother and the only way you know how to imagine a woman is as a wife and mother. I don’t want that, and neither should you.”

“What should I want?”

“I can’t answer that, but I can tell you what I want.”

“What do you want Bianca? Because I will do everything in my power to give it to you.”

“I want a partner.”

“I can be that for you. I don’t have to be your husband or boyfriend, but if you’ll let me, I will be the best partner you’ve ever had.”

Bianca smiled at Blaise’s sincerity and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Cuppa tea?”

He nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “So, does this partner thing involve a ceremony of some sorts?”

“Eventually, but for now, let’s just have a cup of tea and talk.”


	9. Spite Is A Powerful Motivator

Hermione Granger winning the race to become Minister of Magic was inevitable. From the moment her candidacy was announced, Draco knew she would win. The truth was, she didn’t need him to do it. 

Of course he’d twisted a few reluctant ears in her direction, but never anything that could be traced back to him. 

Draco stopped sending her owls after a while. He stopped attending the Ministry events that he knew she’d be present at. In fact, he left England altogether after she became Minister. Better to have people think he was away on business than have them suspect the truth - that he’d broken not just her heart, but his as well and he was not coping well.

So he made himself scarce and watched from afar as she shone in her role as Minister of Magic.

It was his way to atone for what he’d done.

He shouldn’t have taken on that bet with Blaise. If he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have had to spend so much time with her and then he wouldn’t have actually fallen for her.

Draco Malfoy put a lot of value on his intelligence, so it really stung when he had to admit to himself that he was a complete and utter idiot.

“You’re an idiot,” said Blaise through the floo from his house in London.

“Yes, thank you very much for pointing that out to me.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now, why are you calling me?”

“I’m checking up on you. It’s what friends do.”

“Zabini, I’ve been out of town for six months and you haven’t called me once. Why now?”

“Bianca said yes.”

“I need a little more context.”

“I’m getting married! I want you to be my best man as this wouldn’t have happened without you. So what do you say, Draco?”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Oh come on Malfoy, This is what we worked so hard for. Come back, be my best man. I’m not above Portkeying to wherever the hell you are and begging you in person.”

Draco briefly entertained the image of his best friend portkeying out to the Namibian desert and begging on his knees in the red sand.

“Fine, I’ll be there. Just send me the details.”

“Brilliant! Thank you. See you in two weeks.” 

Draco ended the call and went to sit on the verandah of the house he was renting whilst in Namibia. It would be fine, wouldn’t it? The chances of running into Granger were slim to none. He’d just avoid the Ministry, go to the wedding and come back right after the bouquet was thrown. There was no reason he’d have to face her at all. 

* * *

The Zabini/ Phillips wedding was an extravagant affair.

“You have swans waddling around the garden,” Draco pointed out as he stood beside Blaise in the Groom’s suite and adjusted his tie.

“The swans came with the property. Isn’t it beautiful? Bianca loves it. She chose everything for the wedding. I may buy this house for her afterwards.”

Draco rolled his eyes and clapped Blaise on the back. “Ready to go?”

Blaise nodded and followed him to the garden where the chairs had been laid out for the guests. A string quartet was playing to one side as the guests milled under the shade of the bar tent.

A harried looking witch spotted Blaise and Draco and quickly indicated to the quartet to change the music and invited the guests to take their seats. The groom and his best man walked down the aisle to the podium to await the bride’s arrival.

The music changed again and the bridal party made their way down the aisle. Little flower girls and page boys throwing petals on the ground and one little boy spotting his mother, burst into tears and ran straight for her. Not everyone is cut out to be a page boy.

The Maid of Honour was next down the aisle and Draco felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. The Maid of Honour was the Minister of Magic and unfortunately for him, his ex-fake girlfriend.

Merlin’s sagging balls.

Granger had a serene smile on her face as she walked down the aisle, but it froze in place when she spotted the best man. Draco tried to smile at her, if only to tell her he came in peace and would prefer to not leave in pieces.

True to form, Granger simply tilted her head back, and looked at him as if he were the scum left in the potion cauldron after a potion had gone wrong. She then took her place opposite him and fixed her gaze on a spot over his shoulder.

Draco couldn’t recall the rest of the ceremony. He vaguely remembered some vows being exchanged, people cheering and being swept along with the bridal party to have their pictures taken. There had been food and wine and laughter and then it all came crashing over him when Blaise had nudged him with his elbow.

Oh yes, the best man speech. 

Bugger.

He drained his glass and refilled it, his mouth suddenly very dry. The crowd in the ballroom settling in to hear what he had to say about-

“Love.” Draco began then took another sip of his drink and cleared his throat. “Love is kind, or so I hear from all the poets. Love is patient as well. It seems to be all these virtues that I for one am not. Blaise isn’t either, just so you know, Bianca. Blaise is not patient. But does that mean he isn’t capable of love?” 

He took another sip of his drink and locked eyes with Granger at a nearby table. “I think that despite our shortcomings in the virtues department, every single one of us is capable of vast amounts of love, but sometimes we forget. We forget that our love isn’t the responsibility of others. We forget that we can love without it being an exchange. We forget these things because we forget that we are worthy of love and it sometimes takes an extraordinary person to show us this. 

“My favourite virtue when it comes to love is forgiveness, because we do, on occasion, cock things up. We hurt each other and we cut ourselves off from love to punish ourselves, but that doesn’t seem right, does it? So Bianca, forgive Blaise. He will trip and stumble as you both travel this matrimonial road and your forgiveness will guide his steps.”

Someone sniffled at a nearby table while at another, someone loudly blew their nose. When Draco looked again, Granger’s seat was empty.

Draco raised his glass. “To Blaise and Bianca.”

The guests echoed his toast and they all raised their glasses to the happy couple. 

When the festivities moved to the dancefloor, Draco felt a hand on his elbow.

“You’re not going to deny the bride a dance on her wedding day, are you?” 

“Only on pain of death,” Draco smiled at Bianca and led her to the dancefloor. 

Barely a minute into their dance, Bianca sighed. “I heard you’ve been hiding in Africa.”

“Working. I have been working in Africa.”

“Po-tay-to, poh-tah-to. All I know is that you haven’t been around and my friend is no longer fun to be with.”

“Which friend is that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Malfoy. Blaise told me what you two got up to and in all fairness, I should be kicking your arse all the way from here back to Sydney. Did you really think any of it would work?”

“You do remember that you married Blaise, right?”

“That’s besides the point. A sub-plot if anything. I mean you and Hermione. Your little toast was some of the sweetest grovelling I’ve ever experienced.”

“Malfoys don’t grovel. I thought it was a perfectly good toast considering the man you’ve decided to marry.”

“I’m happy with my choice and maybe it’s the atmosphere of love that comes with a wedding that’s making me feel all whimsical, but I think you should speak to Hermione.”

Draco clenched his jaw. “She’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Well, do you blame her? She’s expecting you to lie your way to an apology and you know she’s smarter than that and deserves the truth.”

“The truth is subjective.”

“The truth will set you free.”

“But first it will piss you off.” Draco grimaced around his words.

The song was coming to an end and with a flourish, he twirled Bianca a few times before dipping her backwards.

“You show off!” She laughed as he pulled her upright. “Thanks for the dance.”

“You’re welcome.” He bowed and kissed her knuckles. “Mrs Zabini.”

He didn’t have a chance to say much more as Blaise stepped in and spun his wife into his arms for a rather passionate sing along to Abba.

Draco slipped out one of the side doors and into the garden. The sun was starting to set, painting everything in a golden glow. Hands in his pockets, Draco wandered through the topiary without any destination in mind.

He fingered the little music player Granger had given him what felt like a lifetime ago. He knew every song by heart now and could sing them without the music. As he walked through a passage made of creeping jasmine he began to hum to himself.

“Mushaboom by Feist.”

Draco jumped in surprise and would never, ever admit that he screamed.

“What the hell are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?”

Hermione sat on a bench in an alcove of the jasmine tunnel. There were carefully pruned tea rose bushes on either end of the bench. Draco tried to ignore how beautiful she looked with her hair loose and her emerald green cocktail dress making her glow.

“It's the least you deserve,” she huffed and took a sip of champagne from the bottle near her feet.

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely. In your opinion as Minister of Magic, what would be a suitable punishment for immense stupidity?” 

“Lying is not stupidity, it’s purposeful deceit and fraud. I could give you ten years in prison for that.”

Draco flinched at her words and gestured towards the champagne bottle. With an arched eyebrow, she handed it to him and he took a sip.

“May the defense give an opening statement?” 

Granger eyed him suspiciously before giving a curt nod.

“Look, the stupidity was Blaises’ and the hubris was mine. My best friend convinced me to date someone to help him win the love of his life. The problem was, I cocked it up by falling head over heels for this woman, even though I had no right to.”

She took back the bottle and had a sip. “That’s it? A confession of love?”

“No, I just needed to get that out before I plead for forgiveness for lying to you and to myself. I thought we could fake it. I thought I was being very clever by getting everyone what they wanted. Blaise got Bianca, you got elected and I got my contract. But I was wrong. The contract wasn’t what I wanted in the end. It was you.”

“You humiliated me,” she got to her feet. “You made me think that I could be liked as more than just a friend. You manipulated me into helping your friend get laid and then you have the audacity to expect me to forgive you for that? I’m not some swooning heroine in a corset ripper.”

“Don’t make me picture you in a corset, Granger, I need all the blood to remain in my brain.”

“You’re unbelievable, shameless and a bloody wanker.”

“I also happen to be ashamed and begging, which is not something Malfoys are good at, so can you give me a little leeway here?”

“No. You don’t deserve it. I should blacklist your business. I should make you persona non grata at the Ministry. In fact-”

“Oh my gods, you’re in love with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Draco broke into a laugh, throwing his head back and running his hands through his hair. When he straightened, he saw the pinched expression on her face and leaned forward, hands on his knees as he continued to laugh.

“When you’re quite finished,” Granger had her hands akimbo on her hips, her foot tapping on the pebbles.

“I’m sorry,” Draco gasped for breath. “It’s just… you did it. You actually fell in love with me.”

“Hardly. Maybe a tiny little crush, but certainly not love.”

“A crush? I can live with that. How about I beg for your forgiveness with dinner? And a show? I hear Fiona Apple is on tour.”

“Draco Malfoy, if you haven’t realised by now that I cannot be bought, then there is no hope for you. You’re not in love with me, I’m not in love with you. You’re upset because your scheme was exposed and I’m upset because ...of reasons. So, let’s just agree to be civil and forget anything ever happened, alright?”

“Granger, the past few months have been miserable-”

“Namibia is not for everyone.”

“-I just miss yo - how did you know I was in Namibia?”

“That’s not important. I don’t care how miserable you were. In fact, you can crawl straight back into your little hole of misery and die there for all I care.” With that, she left, navigating the pebble path in high heels with a certain grace that Draco admired.

“Liar.” 

She froze then turned on the spot. “Excuse me?”

“You’re accusing me of being a liar and yet here you are, lying to my face.”

“You are in no position to accuse me of lying.”

“Oh, but I am. You are in love with me. There’s no denying it, Granger. If you weren’t, then you wouldn’t have felt so humiliated. You love me and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried to fall out of love with you for months now and it hasn’t worked. Tell me, honestly, has it worked for you?”

“I found if I worked hard enough, I wouldn’t have time to think of you, because then I’d just get angry.”

“But you did think of me,” Draco smirked.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You love that about me.” He took a few careful steps towards her. 

“Stop telling me how I feel about you. I don’t need this right now. I don’t need you. Where I am now and what I’ve accomplished are without your help. I never needed you. It’s a great feeling to know that I am not beholden to you in any way, so you don’t get to dictate my emotions regarding you, do you understand?”

Chastened by her words, he dropped his eyes to stare at his feet. “I’m not dictating your emotions, Granger. I’m simply pointing out that you seem to be protesting this attraction a little too much. And I knew you didn’t need me. You’ve never needed me or anyone, for that matter, which is admirable.”

Granger nodded. “I don’t need you, Draco Malfoy. But maybe, just maybe, I might possibly... want you in my life.”

Draco froze. Were his ears simply hearing what he wanted? But no, a close inspection of Hermione’s face showed a softening expression. She held his gaze, arms crossed, but now she seemed to look at him instead of through him. Draco straightened and licked his lips.

“Are you sure? I mean, you make a compelling case for me to move to the moon.”

“That’s my back up plan should you ever lie to me again.”

Draco stepped closer, his arms reaching out for her, a questioning look on his face. She smiled and stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He pressed his nose into the curve of her neck, breathing in the scent of her that almost left him dizzy.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asked, voice muffled by her shoulder.

He felt her shrug. “It’s like you said, life is this journey and we all trip at some point and the only thing that keeps us going is forgiveness, isn’t it?”

He raised his head and tilted his chin down to look at her. “I feel I’m going to be earning this forgiveness for a long time.”

“Shut up,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“I can’t kiss you when you keep talking and the more you talk, the -”

Draco leaned down and kissed Hermione, as if to say, I’m sorry, I love you, I want you, I never want to stop kissing you. And Hermione? She kissed him back.

The End.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Seduction Line Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120343) by [jesterlady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady)




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